Fatherhood
by Etaleah
Summary: After losing his wife to an early childbirth, Pippin faces the task of raising his son Faramir alone. What's worse is that Faramir is a very special child, which can sometimes make parenting more difficult for his father than any quest. Yet the two share a fierce love for each other, love that will carry them through many trials together.
1. Babyhood

Pippin woke to a sudden shriek and was up and out of bed before even registering what it was or where it had come from. This had happened often enough that it was practically automatic. His little lad would wake up suddenly in the middle of the night and be terrified that it was dark and Daddy wasn't there. Whether Faramir screamed because he was frightened or because he knew it would bring Pippin running into the room, he wasn't sure. Probably both.

"Shh! There there, little one. Daddy's here." He scooped up the wriggling little body and held it close against his shoulder, bouncing it a little. "Daddy's gotcha, it's all right." He preferred Daddy to Da, although Merry insisted it would sound babyish as Faramir got older. Pippin felt around for his matchbox and candle- he had taken to leaving them on a table in Faramir's room so he could easily give himself some light for these nighttime wailings. Faramir always calmed down a bit when the room brightened and he could see Daddy's face.

"Muh-muh-mun-," Faramir whimpered, kicking his little feet. Pippin sat down with him in the rocker and kissed his cheek. He'd been saying that lately, it was the closest he'd gotten to talking; and at his age Pippin didn't expect he would get much further for a long time. What disturbed him was that it sounded heart wrenchingly close to "Mama." And Mama was a need Pippin couldn't provide.

He could feed his son and clothe him and rock him to sleep and bathe him and change his nappies and take him for walks in his pram and play with him. He could do his best to protect him and care for him when he was sick or sad. But try as he might, Pippin could never be his son's mama.

"I miss her too, son," Pippin whispered. "She'd be so proud of you. Every bit as much as I am." He wiped away the tears on Faramir's cheeks with the gentlest touch he could. He stroked his baby hair and skin, still marveling at how soft they were. His hair was the same color as Pippin's, though it was much straighter, seeing as the effects of the Ent draughts weren't genetic. His eyes were like Pippin's too, only they had that effect of darkening when he was upset, like Diamond's. And he was so impossibly small that at first Pippin had been afraid to hold him. How could anything so little possibly grow and thrive?

Diamond had snapped at him then. "You were once that size too, weren't you? And look at you now."

Look at him now.

Faramir had stopped crying and was now resting his head on Pippin's chest, staring up at him with adoring eyes that made Pippin want to melt into a puddle. When these night terrors first started, he had been frantic to remedy the tears by giving his son a bottle, a toy, his bunny, a clean nappy, anything to make it stop. But after a week, he'd figured out that his presence was usually all that was needed. Pippin cherished these times even if they deprived him of sleep. He loved the warmth and softness of the blanket-wrapped baby against him. He loved those eyes. He loved that hair. He loved the way Faramir immediately calmed down when Pippin picked him up, how he reached out his arms as soon as Pippin walked in the room, and how he could fall asleep to Pippin's voice singing him a lullaby.

His own father hadn't done this for him. Hadn't rocked him, read to him, or sang to him. Not that Paladin had been unloving; he had ensured that his son- and his daughters too, for that matter- had a respectable, quality education and were well dressed and never made to skip a meal. Whenever there was a birthday, Paladin was there with hugs and cheer. But the Thain was a busy hobbit, and even if he hadn't been, the issue of giving children baths and putting them to bed and feeding them had always been deemed a "Mummy Task." There was no law saying so of course, and if the mother was not around for some reason, no one would object to the father taking over for a bit, but if the mother _was_ around, it was an unwritten custom that it was her responsibility to do the nurturing tasks. Pippin had never thought twice about it until now.

Being a single parent was hard, there was no getting around that. It was hard for a mother or a father. Those first few weeks after Diamond had passed, Pippin had lost track of who cried more: himself or Faramir. His sisters and Merry and Estell and Sam and Rosie had all been wonderful in lending a hand and offering to watch Faramir for him or cook dinner while he caught up on sleep, but he couldn't expect them to be around forever. They had families of their own.

"I may be all you've got," he whispered to Faramir. "But I'm going to do my best to be all you need." His son had fallen asleep, so there was no answer. Pippin knew he should put him back to bed, but he didn't move. These rocking sessions were almost as soothing for him as they were for the baby. Watching his son snooze contentedly reminded him that he was still okay, that Pippin hadn't made a mistake with him yet.

And oh, was Pippin afraid of making a mistake! He had been the one to make all the mistakes on the quest, after all. It was only by fate and perhaps his own good fortune that everything had turned out well in the end; there was no guarantee that the same would happen for his son. Pippin lived in constant fear of dropping him, forgetting to feed him, undercooking his meals and making him sick, turning his back for a minute only to wonder where Faramir had gone off to (as has often been the case with himself and his own mother), and many other things. He ever found himself fretting over small matters like whether his bath water was too hot or too cold or if his clothing was too tight. Whether this sort of worry was healthy Pippin didn't know. He only knew he couldn't help it.

A funny thing, that was. He had watched other hobbit children plenty of times, mostly Sam's or his own nieces and nephews, and was always very lenient with them. Pippin had never been one to demand finishing a main course before starting a dessert (he cheated on that rule himself even now) or bundling up if it got cold. He figured if it made them happy, why ruin their happiness? But with his own son, it was a different story. Faramir was precious. Faramir meant everything to him.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he said softly, and was careful in rising from the rocker and blowing out the candle. He started to lower Faramir into his cradle, then decided on a whim to take him to his own bed. Pippin had been afraid to take his son to bed with him for fear he would accidentally roll on top of him and crush the baby's tiny rib cage in his sleep, but he was wide awake now and wasn't quite ready to part with him just yet.

Faramir didn't even stir as Pippin laid him down with his little head on the pillow. The bed was huge compared to his cradle and he looked even tinier in it. Pippin lay stretched out beside him and watched the blanket rise and fall, feeling love fill him up from the tips of his toes to his cheeks, which until this moment he hadn't even realized were wet. He hadn't realized until now how nice it was to have someone else in the bed with him.

 _What would I be doing right now if Diamond were alive?_ He always wondered if he wouldn't have been a better parent if she had lived. Diamond had helped care for children her whole life whereas Pippin had only just started. Until his friends and cousins married and started their families, he had always been the youngest and there hadn't been anyone around for him to look after. _Would she have got up with Faramir instead? Would I have just stayed in bed and gone back to sleep?_

He had been resentful of that at first. Those weeks following Diamond's death were awful. Though Faramir was, of course, too young to understand that she had died, it seemed to Pippin that he somehow sensed that Mum was gone and wasn't coming back, because overnight he went from being a fairly even-tempered baby to a screeching one. Faramir had cried for hours until Pippin thought he would go insane or burst into tears himself. He slept for only two hours at a time- if Pippin was lucky- and spit up everything he ate. Yet he somehow still needed a nappy change constantly, and Pippin had to resort to begging his family and friends to lend him some of theirs because he couldn't wash his own fast enough. Never in his life had he felt so helpless, not even while he'd been held captive by orcs.

But as time passed and Faramir began to sleep longer, Pippin found he not only didn't mind it, but even _enjoyed_ it when Faramir woke him up and they spent time together in the rocker. He enjoyed reading his son bedtime stories and watching the awe in his eyes the first time he saw a butterfly or a raindrop. He especially enjoyed singing to him. He smiled. On his first day as a father, Pippin had been too nervous to even hold his son, and look how far they'd come. He'd been more or less forced out of his comfort zone, out of his idea of what tasks were reserved for fathers and which were reserved for mothers. And, though he would always miss Diamond terribly and would never in a million years have wished her such a short life, a part of him thought maybe some good came out of her death. This way he could enjoy mummy tasks.

 _Or perhaps,_ he thought suddenly, _they're not mummy tasks after all. Maybe mummies and daddies aren't so suited to different roles as we think._ All this thinking began to tire him out, and he was just closing his eyes when he heard a noise.

"Da."

"Mm?" Pippin didn't register the noise at first. Then he slowly opened his eyes. "Hmm?"

"Da. Muh-da."

"Faramir!" Pippin clapped a hand over his mouth. His eyes were getting watery again.

"Muh-da!" Faramir slapped his little hand on the bed, like he wanted to emphasize that word. By the moonlight, Pippin could see that he was smiling. It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

"I'm not sure if you're trying to call me Mum-Da, or if you're saying 'My Da,'" Pippin said. "But I suppose either one is correct." He rolled onto his back and pulled Faramir onto his stomach, smiling into his eyes with Faramir smiling back. "I love you so much," he said, and went to sleep hugging his son to his chest.

Faramir was still smiling when he woke up.


	2. Toddlerhood

Pippin chewed his nails and fidgeted in Bingo's living room. He had wanted to stay with Faramir during the check-up, especially given his nervousness around strangers, but the old hobbit had shooed him out, claiming that it would be better for everyone if Pippin didn't hover. Pippin had been indignant at that, but seeing as Bingo was the only healer in the Shire, he didn't have much choice. _I only hope there is something old Bingo can do for him_ , Pippin thought. Hobbit healers certainly couldn't hold a candle to elvish medicine, but they generally knew enough to at least help with childbirth or brew a draught to relieve common colds.

The door opened and just as Pippin expected, Faramir raced to him with his arms outstretched and his face puckered up, ready for tears. Pippin quickly picked him up and murmured the same soothing words that he'd used the past two and a half years. He looked hopefully at Bingo, but he simply shrugged.

"Checked him inside and out, I have, and can't find a thing wrong."

"Nothing?" Pippin wasn't sure whether to be glad or not. "Nothing in his throat, no swollen glands?"

Bingo retreated to his kitchen to fetch some tea. "Far as I can tell, the little lad's just a bit nervous, that's all."

"But he's almost three!" Pippin protested. "My mother tells me I was already a chatterbox at that age."

Bingo sighed and offered Pippin some tea, to which he shook his head no. "If you don't mind me saying so, you might be better off not putting so much pressure on the little one, or you may just make it worse. These things happen naturally. You say he's almost three, that means he'll be starting school within a year, and he'll surely learn then."

 _School._ The word sent shudders down Pippin's spine. "Are you quite sure there's nothing I can do for him?" he pleaded.

"Nothing that I can think of, Master Took. Nothing anybody can do but give the lad some time."

* * *

"He says it like it's the simplest thing in the world," Pippin said, scowling. He was sitting down to afternoon tea at Bag End with Sam. It had been a while since their last visit, but Pippin thought the house looked much better than it ever had when Frodo and Bilbo had lived in it. The two of them hadn't been the tidiest of hobbits; books and papers had been strewn everywhere, and in Bilbo's case old maps had littered the floor and desks as well. Pippin didn't know how they kept everything so nice-looking with so many children running around- he sometimes felt he could barely handle one- but the Gamgees were nothing if not hard-working. Rosie, who was heavily pregnant with their eighth baby, had left them a few moments ago to check on the children. Pippin glanced out the window and his eyes softened at watching Faramir outside with Elanor, Frodo, Rose, Merry-lad, Pippin-lad, Goldilocks, and little Hamfast.

 _"Now you be sure to play real nice with little Mister Faramir, understand?"_ Sam had delivered the command strictly, but he needn't have done. The children, much to Pippin's relief, seemed open to including Faramir. He suspected the siblings were probably tired of only playing with each other; there weren't many hobbit-children in Bag End unless you counted the children of the Sackville-Bagginses, which they didn't. Pippin couldn't thank Sam enough. If it weren't for his children, he sometimes wondered if Faramir would ever have a playmate.

"He might be right, Mister Pippin," Sam said as he sipped his tea. "Little Frodo-lad had at least two years on him before he opened his mouth to say a word. Rosie and I were beginning to wonder if he'd ever talk, and now he can't hardly stop."

Pippin sighed. "But at least Frodo speaks normally." As if on cue, Faramir's voice could be heard from the windows. "N-n-n-no! I w-w-want to s-seek this t-t-time." Pippin winced as he saw the children's looks. The older ones had pity in their eyes, but the younger ones looked annoyed or confused. On their last visit, Goldilocks had bluntly asked, "Why do you talk so queer?" and Sam had slapped her on the backside for her disrespect.

Pippin shook the memory from his mind. "It doesn't trouble _me_ so much as it will others. In particular I worry about when he starts school next autumn."

Sam patted Pippin's hand. "Now Mr. Pippin, don't you worry about that. That there's a good school, the little ones loved it." Sam's voice was full of pride and Pippin smiled. He knew Sam was proud to be the first of the Gamgees to send his children to school. Usually only the wealthiest hobbits could afford to do so when their children were this age; most didn't start them learning until they were older and then at home. But gentle hobbits like Frodo, Merry, and Pippin had been sent to a school built especially for young children, to get them started learning to read and write the common tongue early so they could possibly go on to learning elvish or other skills when they were older. The Gaffer had harrumphed and turned up his nose at the idea, saying that it "weren't nothin' but a fancy day care," but the children had begged to go, and Frodo had once mentioned to Sam that he thought it would do wonders for Elanor. So Sam thought there was no better way to spend the money Frodo and Bilbo had left him than on educating his children.

Pippin wasn't so sure about Faramir, however. He himself had liked school as a child- or so he had been told, at least, since he didn't remember much from that age- but he questioned whether his son was ready for it. "Faramir still has trouble with things like buttoning his shirts and cutting his food and he gets so frightened around other people. I do want him to go to school, but I wonder if perhaps I shouldn't wait a year and start him a little later?"

Sam shook his head. "Oh, I don't know about that, Mister Pippin. That little lad's gonna be Thain someday. He needs all the learnin' he can get."

"That's true, but Sam, don't you remember how he reacted the last time I left him with you?"

Sam did remember. Faramir had latched on to Pippin's leg and wailed as though the very world was ending. No matter how Pippin reassured him that he was only going for an ale, he'd be back soon, Sam and Rosie would look after him, Faramir would not be consoled. He'd started to beg Daddy not to leave, then when he couldn't form a sentence without tripping over the words, he'd simply cried. "And he _knew_ you," Pippin said. "How much worse will it be when he's among strangers?"

Sam sighed. "I know what you mean, sir. But I reckon the sooner he gets used to the idea, the better. Puttin' it off will only make it harder." He thought for a minute. "You know, Elanor was nervous too, but when I sat her down and told her how much fun she'd have and that it's only be for a few hours a day, she felt a little better. Maybe that's all you need to do, is sit down and have a talk with Mister Faramir." He sipped his tea. "The first day was a little tough, but once she saw that I came back for her at the end of the day, she never worried about going to school again."

Pippin nodded thoughtfully and was about to say something when the door burst open and Faramir darted in like a flash, with an apologetic-looking Rosie behind him. "D-daddy!" Pippin scooped him up and settled him in his lap.

"What's the matter?" he asked gently, wiping away his son's tears.

Faramir clung to him. "W-w-we were p-playing hide and s-s-seek, and I w-was l-l-looking f-for Fr-fr-Frodo and I s-saw a b-b-big b-b-b-bee! It g-got this c-close to me!" He held his finger and thumb about a millimeter apart. "A-and then I f-fell and h-hit a rock," he whimpered, holding his knee. Pippin pushed up his pant leg and took a look. The skin was red and slightly scratched and it looked like a bruise was forming, but he couldn't see any blood.

"It's all right, love, it's all right." He held Faramir close and rocked him a little as he sobbed into his shoulder. He glanced at Sam, who looked concerned, but then wrinkled his nose and asked, "You smell something, Mister Pippin?"

Pippin knew what the smell was the minute Faramir had climbed onto his lap. He'd been trying for a year to get Faramir to use the chamber pot, but sometimes the little lad forgot. "Come now, let's get you cleaned up." He stood up with his son in his arms and turned to Rosie. "Could I trouble you for a pair of Pippin-lad's trousers?"

* * *

The minute Faramir was clean and his soiled clothes had been washed and laid out to dry in the sunshine, he wasted no time in asking, "C-can I p-p-please have some p-paper an-an-and paint?"

"If Sam says so, then you may." But Sam had already nodded his consent and Faramir raced to Frodo's old desk and fetched several sheets of paper- more than Pippin thought was probably appropriate, but he refrained from saying so- and spread them out on the floor. The Gaffer had shown Pippin and Sam how to make paint from mixing egg yolks, water, and oil with different soils and plants, saying it sometimes kept little ones entertained enough to keep from running all over Middle-earth. When Pippin had told him that Faramir had loved to draw since he could hold a quill, Gaffer had made buckets of paint and gave some to Pippin and kept the rest at Bag End for when they visited. Pippin had begged Gaffer to allow him to pay him for the trouble, but of course the old hobbit wouldn't hear of it.

Rosie fetched the paints and handed them to Sam so he could set them on the floor, as bending over was too difficult for her now. "Here you go, Mister Faramir. You be sure to paint something real nice and pretty." Faramir smiled and eagerly dug his hands into the paint. Sam returned to the table with Pippin and Rosie took up her watch outside with the children, but Pippin's eyes were on Faramir. He always looked happiest when he was painting or drawing something, and only stopped when either he ran out of materials or Pippin shoved him outside, which he found himself doing a lot. There was nothing wrong with painting of course, but Pippin thought it unnatural for a lad to want to spend so much time inside by himself.

"It's striking how much he looks like you, sir," Sam said. "His eyes may be a bit more like Miss Diamond's, but other than that he's the spitting image of you." Pippin smiled. Faramir was tiny even for hobbit standards, just as he himself had been before meeting Treebeard, and he had the same hair. It was a wonder that they looked so alike and acted so different.

"Reminds me of Master Frodo, that one," Sam was saying, and Pippin snapped back to attention. "You remember how he was always reading books instead of roughing like the rest of us?"

Pippin chuckled quietly. "A funny thing that is. When I sent out the birth announcements, our friends in Gondor and Buckland sent responses full of mock panic, thinking that my son would be even more inquisitive and foolish than I was. I can only imagine what Gandalf would have said if he had stayed to see it! But instead of a young Pippin, I had a young Frodo."

"And there isn't nothing wrong with that," Sam said with a smile. "Nothing wrong with that at all." Pippin felt a tug at his heart at seeing the wistful look in Sam's eyes. He too missed Frodo fiercely, but he wouldn't fool himself into thinking his feelings were as strong as Sam's. He had a feeling if Rosie and Elanor hadn't been waiting for him back home, Sam would have jumped on the boat and insisted on coming along, just as he had done so at Rivendell.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a presence at his side. He looked down and Faramir held up his paper for Pippin to see. "You finished, have you?" He took the paper and his eyes widened. The painting seemed to be of Bag End, with the children running in the background. "Faramir, this is- this is good!" He was surprised to find he meant it. Given Faramir's age, he had been expecting scribbles, but in this painting the shapes of the hills and houses were clearly defined and given more detail than he himself could have done. The only oddity was the colors. Faramir had painted the hills polka dots and the sky with what looked like diagonal stripes, and the houses of Bag End were now sporting rainbow roofs and doors that were heart-shaped instead of circular. The sun was a light pink and the clouds were varying shapes and colors.

Pippin grinned. "Well done, my lad," he said and ruffled Faramir's hair. Faramir treated him to one of his rare smiles, though he kept his mouth tightly shut. Pippin handed the painting back to him. "Show it to Sam." Faramir did so and Sam nearly fell out of his chair.

"Mister Faramir, this is- my stars, this is magnificent!" His mouth was open and Pippin could tell he wasn't just being polite. "You're right talented for being so little. Mister Pippin, you got a genius on your hands."

Faramir nodded, but Pippin prompted, "What do you say?" Faramir hunched his shoulders and looked stricken, his face reddening. He avoided Sam's eyes and looked pleadingly at his father. Pippin gave him a hard look. "Faramir. What do you say?"

"T-fuh-" The "th" sound was the one he struggled with the most. "F-f-fank y-you," he quickly said, and scurried back to his paints. One of the children came in from play and he scooted into a corner, organizing his paints and papers around him like a barricade.

Pippin shook his head and turned back to Sam. "I think you're right. He needs to start school as soon as possible."


	3. First Day of School

When the dreaded day finally came, it was difficult for Merry to tell whether Faramir or Pippin was more terrified. Pippin did a much better job of hiding his fear, but it was still plain as day to anyone who knew him well. Pippin had hinted in a letter that he "strongly hoped" Merry would come visit before Faramir started school, which might as well have been a desperate cry for how subtle it was. Nonetheless, Merry wasted little time in leaving Estel in charge of Buckland and departing for Tuckborough to offer Pippin some emotional support.

"Come now, Faramir, it won't be that bad," he insisted to his son, who was currently hiding under the bed, clutching his blanket and a stuffed bunny. "Think how much fun you'll have with other children."

Faramir shook his head and tried to push farther back, but he was already against the wall. Merry got down on the floor with Pippin.

"Don't you worry, little sprout. Your daddy and I went to school when we were little and we loved it." That was somewhat of a lie in Merry's case since he had preferred running around with Pippin to sitting inside with a book, but what Faramir didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "And I'd be willing to bet a few pennies that they'll have some painting for you to do."

They both grinned in hope when Faramir looked up for a brief moment, but still the lad didn't budge from his hiding place. Pippin looked down. He never liked to use force if he could help it- some of his most vivid and painful memories from childhood were when his father spanked him or yelled at him- but if Faramir didn't come out soon, they'd be late, and Pippin wasn't keen on dragging him to school kicking and crying.

He tried bribery. "Faramir, if you be a big lad and come out and get ready, I'll give you three big cookies when you get home from school today." Faramir didn't move. "Four big cookies?" His only answer was to sniff and clutch the bunny tighter.

Pippin sighed and closed his eyes as he pulled out his last card. "Bunny can go to school with you." Merry raised his eyebrows in question.

"P-p-p-promise?" Faramir whimpered.

"I promise." Pippin reached under the bed and Faramir allowed himself to be pulled out from under it. "Now put on the clothes I laid out for you, all right? When you're finished, you can join us for breakfast and then we'll all walk there together."

Faramir stood up and reached for the clothes while Merry and Pippin headed for the kitchen. As soon as they were out of earshot, they began to set the table and Merry asked, "Bunny?"

Pippin nodded sadly. "His mother made it for him when she was pregnant. It's all he has of her, and it's his favorite toy. He treasures it even more than those paints he's so fond of."

"And I suppose he was wanting to take his favorite toy to school with him?" Merry asked, laying down the silverware while Pippin set out cups and bowls.

"More than that, he won't part with it for a moment. Won't even put it down to play. It's been that way since he was old enough to know what it was, and I had been hoping to wean him off it."

Merry nodded as he sat down. "Would I be correct in guessing that leaving his beloved bunny behind was the reason for his not wanting to go to school?"

"That's part of it." Pippin sighed and put his face in his hands. He looked awfully tired and Merry wondered if he had slept at all the night before. "He's still afraid I won't come back for him. Last night he asked if I was sending him to school because I didn't want him anymore."

"Now how could he think such a thing-" But Merry's question was cut off by Faramir wandering into the kitchen with his shirt and trousers open. He walked silently over to Pippin, who quickly buttoned them up for him and set him on his lap. They both looked so grim, although Pippin was trying to wear his usual smile.

"Aren't you excited, Faramir?" Merry asked, trying to sound enthusiastic. "You'll be learning how to read books and write your name and play games."

Faramir shook his head and clung to Pippin's shirt. "W-wanna s-stay with Daddy."

Pippin kissed the top of his head. "Daddy will be there at one o'clock to pick you up, I promise." Faramir still didn't look convinced. Merry hoped he might look a little cheerier once he actually saw the school. Right now he probably thought of it as this ominous threat, but it was really quite nice-looking. There was a beautiful garden out front and the yard often had toys on the ground for children to play with until it was time for them to begin lessons. _Perhaps if we're lucky, he'll be so distracted by the toys that he'll forget his fear._

* * *

Faramir took one look at the school and Merry's hopes were instantly dashed. "N-n-n-n-no," he whimpered and clung to Pippin's leg. Pippin tried unsuccessfully to shake him off, but eventually gave up and carried him to the gate of the school, where the teachers were waiting to welcome new students.

"And who is this little lad?" asked the head teacher, whose name was Camilla. She smiled at Faramir, who buried his face in Pippin's shirt.

"This is my son, Faramir Took," Pippin said, sounding just a tad proud, Merry noted. "As you can see, he's a little nervous."

"I daresay you are too, Master Took," she said, and Pippin blushed a bit. "Is this your only child?"

"Yes, he is," Pippin said. "And if it's quite all right, he's brought a toy…" He shifted Faramir in his arms so Camilla could see Bunny. She smiled.

"I can tell by its fur that this toy is well loved. Does it have a name?"

Pippin looked to Faramir, who he knew wouldn't speak unless he was forced to. "Can you tell her his name?"

"B-b-b-bunny," Faramir said with some effort, and Pippin was relieved when Camilla didn't comment on the lack of creativity in the name or the fact that Faramir still hadn't looked at her.

"Well, you and Bunny are going to be very happy here. Can you say goodbye to Daddy for me, Faramir?"

Pippin bent down to set Faramir on the ground and felt the front of his shirt grow damp. "Take care, and I'll see you in a few hours, all right?" But of course Faramir would not let him go that easily. He clung tightly to Pippin and looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"P-p-please d-don't l-l-leave me, Daddy."

Pippin swallowed hard to keep from bursting into tears himself and looked up at Camilla, who put a hand on his shoulder. "There's no need to worry, Master Took. Nearly all the children are like this on their first day, and most of the time they stop crying as soon as the parent leaves."

Pippin looked Faramir in the eye. "It's just for a little while. Just mind Miss Camilla and I'll be back before you know it." He quickly stood up and pried Faramir off him, sending the child into a wail. He sat down and began to cry and Pippin had to quickly turn around and let Merry lead him away before he lost his nerve. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Camilla pick Faramir up and try to calm him down, but still he reached a hand out for his father and sobbed so loudly one would have thought he and Pippin were parting for all eternity rather than four hours.

Merry tightened his hand on Pippin's shoulder and pulled him along faster, so that they were over the hill and well out of sight of the school before Pippin could no longer hold back his tears. Merry wrapped his arms around his cousin. "You've done the right thing, Pippin. He'll be all right."

"Did you see his face?" Pippin asked bitterly, weeping into Merry's shoulder. "It was as if I'd betrayed him." He took a deep breath. "What if I've made a mistake? What if he truly wasn't ready?"

"Hush now, there comes a time when every child must leave the nest, whether he wants to or no. Surely you know that well enough?" Pippin nodded. "You heard Camilla, his tears may have already stopped."

Pippin wiped his eyes. "Can I tell you something, Merry?"

"Of course."

Pippin shut his eyes tight and his bottom lip quivered. "There are days when I feel like I can't do this alone," he choked out. "Diamond would have known what to do, she was always a marvel at calming children. But I don't know _what_ I'm doing, and every day I fear that my son will pay for it. And I couldn't bear that," he said, shoulders shaking. "Faramir means everything to me."

Merry tucked Pippin's hair behind his ears. "Of course he does. My dear Pippin, there's hardly a correct method of raising children. Sam said much the same thing to me when little Elanor was born, and what a fine young lass she is now!" He pulled Pippin back into a hug and watched the bees tending to the flowers around them. "And you are not alone. You know I am here whenever you need me."

The two of them sat down in the grass and leaves- which were beginning to change color and pile up now that autumn had arrived- and under the soothing blue sky. Pippin lay back as he dried the last of his tears. They listened to the birds for a while until Pippin began to close his eyes, probably wanting to catch up on the sleep he'd missed. Still, he kept one hand in his pocket where his watch was. It was the first time Merry had ever seen Pippin fret about the time of day for a reason other than meals, and he pitied his friend's serious mood on such a beautiful day.

"Do you think he'll be angry with me when I go to pick him up?" Pippin asked.

Merry held his hand. "He's a hobbit, Pip, and a full-blooded Took at that. Hobbits always find ways to be happy, and he comes from the most adventurous breed of all."

* * *

They were back at the school by a quarter to one, and once again Merry's thoughts were proven wrong. It was lucky Pippin had insisted on arriving early, because the second the door of the school opened at twelve-fifty, Faramir was sprinting out of it with his bunny in one hand and his other reaching for Pippin again. He was still whimpering and Merry's heart sank. He wondered if Faramir had stopped crying at all since they'd left.

"D-daddy," Faramir cried and held tightly to Pippin as he picked him up.

"See now? Didn't I tell you I would be here waiting for you?" Faramir didn't answer. Pippin finally asked, "Well, how did you like it?"

Faramir didn't answer. Merry stood behind Pippin so he could look the lad in the eye. "Come on now, surely it wasn't that bad? Did you get to play any games with the children?"

Faramir scrunched up his face like he did when he was trying very hard to say something. "D-d-don't w-wanna p-p-play with them." Every word looked like it cost him a great deal of effort to spit out.

Pippin held Faramir at length and spoke to him gently. "Why? Were they cruel to you?" Faramir shook his head. "Than why wouldn't you want to play with them?"

"I w-w-anna d-d-draw," was all he said.

Pippin stood there a moment, watching the other children run wild about the yard, playing games and shrieking with laughter while they waited for their parents, some of whom were working in the fields and wouldn't be able to make it down the hill until later. He looked at Camilla, who was sitting on the front steps of the school and watching the children. Then he looked at his cousin.

"Merry, would you…?" He nodded at his head at Camilla and mouthed, _Ask her if anything happened._ Merry was a little taken aback, but nodded anyway and headed toward her while Pippin pat Faramir's back and tried to calm him down.

"Excuse me?" Camilla looked up at him.

"Master Brandybuck, a pleasure to see you again. Are any of these children yours?"

"Oh no, I have no children of my own." Merry thought to himself that perhaps he wasn't so eager to change that status. Estel had been asking him about children and of course his family insisted it was his responsibility to have at least one son, but seeing all the trouble Pippin was having, Merry was hesitant. Sam and Rosie made parenting look easy, but it seemed to Merry that Pippin was tormented by it. He was always worried and second-guessing himself, a far cry from the carefree hobbit Merry had grown up with. _Still,_ he thought. _Sam and Rosie have each other, and poor Pip is in this all by himself._

"I just want to ask about little Faramir Took." He gestured to Pippin. "His father Peregrin is my cousin, and we couldn't help noticing the little lad seems upset. Just wondered if anything had happened we ought know about."

Camilla sighed and stood up. "I had to reprimand him a little this morning. He was fine during lessons, but when I split the children up into teams and gave them a game to play, he wouldn't do it. He kept sneaking off into a corner where the art supplies were and saying he didn't want to play."

"Is that all?" Merry asked. That didn't seem offensive enough to warrant a reprimand.

Camilla crossed her arms and looked stern. "Forgive me, Master Brandybuck, but when a child does not follow instruction, I have no choice but to administer some sort of punishment. I told him if he did not join his team and play the game, he would sit in time-out. So that's what he did."

Merry shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It wasn't his place to tell Camilla how to run her school, but he felt that unfair. "He's just a little shy, that's all."

"He also refused to let go of his toy. I have no problem with him bringing it to school, but he cannot be holding it every moment."

Merry didn't know what to say to that. _This_ was why he had no children! "Aye, ma'am. I'll be sure to pass the message on to his father and we'll see if we can't get him to be better behaved next time."

When he had accompanied Pippin home and the two of them had put Faramir down for a nap, they sat down in the living room and he told his cousin what Camilla had said. Pippin puffed away on his pipe and stared into space. When he had been in the kitchen, Merry had noticed that the supply of Old Toby he had given Pippin as a gift a few weeks ago was already running low, a sure sign that Pippin was stressed. The only other time Merry had seen him go through his pipeweed that quickly was during the quest, when they had been worried for Frodo and Sam.

"I don't know if I could convince him to give up the bunny," Pippin said. "But I do plan to have a word with him about playing with others." He fidgeted on the couch. "I don't understand, Merry. Why would any child _want_ to be alone? Even Frodo and Bilbo desired company from time to time."

Merry took a drag from his own pipe to avoid answering for a minute. "I suppose he inherited the stubbornness that runs in our family. The last thing our parents wanted was for us to make mischief, so naturally that's what we were determined to do. When you had your son, we talked for hours about all the trouble he'd get into, and now of course he's determined not to get into any."

Pippin gave a small smile at that. "That wouldn't surprise me. I only fear that it isn't healthy. If he isn't around other hobbits, he won't be expected to talk much, which is likely only going to make his speech problem worse."

All Merry could think to say was, "It's only the first day. Perhaps he just needs to get used to it. After all, he's rarely been separated from you, which isn't doing either of you many favors." He knew Pippin craved adult conversation despite the time he treasured with his son. "Give him time, Pip. He's just taking a little longer to grow up than most. You've done a fine job with him so far."

Pippin only hoped he would see some evidence to support that.


	4. Pippin's Proudest Moment

Bag End was beautiful at Yule. The houses looked so snug and cozy underneath the snow that covered them, and Sam put in time in the snow with his children every day, so that the front walkway was clean and easy to walk through by the time Pippin and Faramir arrived. Even the plants and a few flowers bloomed, because Sam's gardening skills were such that he knew how to keep nature thriving even in the dead of winter.

Faramir seemed to be enjoying it, Pippin noted with relief. The child held his hand tightly as he struggled to keep up with Pippin's much longer legs. He'd been in school four months now and still didn't seem to like it any more than he had the first day. He'd finally stopped protesting it after a week once he saw that Merry and his father were going to hold firm, but he was still the first child out the door every day and always rushed to the safety of Pippin's arms. Pippin hoped a visit with his favorite family and a holiday from school would pluck up both of their spirits.

Sam opened the door before they could knock. "Welcome Mister Pippin, Mister Faramir. Come on in!" They both smiled and were greeted with the warm smell of baking and young children. Daisy was coming up on two years old now, and Hamfast had just turned three a few months ago. Down at the mill, rumors were already swirling about a ninth child in the works. Pippin took off his coat and helped Faramir out of his before they were surrounded by children on all sides, each begging for a hug.

"So good to see all of you! Yes, we missed you terribly," he said as he wrapped each of them in his arms, giving particular attention to his namesake. He had been touched that Sam had been so eager to name one of his sons after him, and even more so when he'd been named Pippin instead of Peregrin. Pippin didn't care much for his legal name since most of the time it was only used by people who were angry with him.

"Fair mere!" Daisy cried, and ran to hug Faramir's legs. He just stood there shyly, greeting his friends with a nod and a smile. He blushed a bit when Elanor and Goldilocks threw their arms around him.

Sam guided them to the huge dining room table, which was another new addition to the house, as Frodo had rarely entertained many guests. "The lasses done worked all day on this meal, sir, and I think it's fit for a king, myself."

"Oh Sam, you needn't have gone to so much trouble." But Sam was already waving away Pippin's protests as he sat down at the head of the table next to Rosie. The table was already laden with enough meats and cheeses and breads and fruits that it reminded Pippin of Bilbo's party. He couldn't imagine feeding so many mouths each day, but Sam could grow almost any food you could want and Rosie always knew just what to do with it. Pippin smiled sadly. He supposed if Diamond had lived, they might have had the same chemistry and Faramir wouldn't have been stuck eating food that had been snatched from Farmer Maggot or the Green Dragon.

"Have you done any new pictures, Faramir?" Rosie asked. Faramir's face lit up as he nodded.

"Tell her about the last one you drew," Pippin prompted him, and Faramir gave him the same look of betrayal he always did whenever Pippin forced him to speak. But he said, "I d-d-did a p-p-picture of D-daddy and Uncle M-merry. H-he had p-polk-k-k-a dot hair." Faramir's face reddened a bit as he struggled to get the words out and quickly shoveled his potatoes in his mouth so he wouldn't have to say any more.

Pippin ruffled his hair. "You paint the most interesting things, don't you?" he asked affectionately.

"I remember he did a picture of my mum and da with triangle eyes," Frodo said. Faramir blushed.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with that. I reckon we'd be right boring if we always looked the same in our pictures," Rosie said while trying to feed Daisy. Faramir blushed at her smile and Pippin changed the subject by complimenting Sam's gardening work. The rest of the meal passed by smoothly, with the children chatting amongst themselves while the adults spoke of the latest rumors being passed around in the Green Dragon. Goldilocks asked Faramir a few questions out of politeness, but didn't push him when he declined to answer. Pippin and Sam were still deep in conversation and Rosie was thinking it was time to put Daisy and Hamfast to bed when the others had already finished their much smaller portions and were beginning to grow restless.

"Da, may we please be excused?" Frodo asked. "I want to go play outside with Faramir before it gets dark." Faramir hadn't exactly consented to this, but Frodo knew he'd be more likely to get what he asked for if the guest wanted it too.

Sam nodded. "Sure, you can all be excused. Just take your plates into the kitchen and don't play too rough now. Wouldn't want you upsetting your stomachs after you just ate." But they were already out the door.

Faramir followed them, in part because he didn't want to be stuck at the dinner table any more than they did. But unlike the children at school, the Gamgees were not bad playmates. They never tackled him hard or made fun of the way he talked (except for Rose that one time and she never did it again), and when they played hide and seek, they always allowed him to hide. They were even nice enough not to pick him last when they divided into teams despite the fact that even little Pippin-lad and Goldilocks were faster runners than him.

"Let's play snowball fight!" Frodo shouted and gathered up a fistful of snow. He stood next to Faramir, Merry-lad, and Pippin-lad while Elanor, Rose, and Goldilocks stood across from them. Elanor's team had a slight advantage since she was the biggest by far, but Frodo was the most athletic of the bunch, so it was more or less even. Frodo struck first, and from there a flurry of snowballs passed between them with just enough force to startle but not enough to hurt. Faramir was pelted the most, seeing as he was the easiest target, but he was grateful at being able to play a game without having to talk. He would have preferred to be painting of course- the sunset behind Bag End was particularly inspiring- but he knew it made Daddy sad to see him inside painting when other children were outside playing. So he put on a smile, threw a few balls- mostly missing- and hoped his father would watch him and feel happy.

* * *

Pippin was watching. Or at the very least, he glanced out the window every few minutes while speaking with Sam. They hadn't moved from the dinner table and Pippin's mouth was going a million miles a minute, much to Sam's relief. He himself was more of a listener than a talker, and it was good to see Mr. Pippin acting like his old self again. He couldn't imagine trying to raise the children without Rosie, and he wondered how long it had been since Pippin had spoken to an adult. Merry visited whenever he could, Sam knew, but as Master of Buckland he had his own responsibilities.

"And he gives me this ale like he expects me to believe it was actually made in the Shire. I mean, really! A fellow like me knows a West Farthing ale when he sees one." Pippin rolled his eyes and Sam smiled. "Anyway, you and I ought to go have a few drinks together one night. It's been so long since I had that pleasure." He fiddled with his glass, and Sam knew he was also missing the pleasure of his pipe. Even Bilbo, chain smoker that he was, had been adamant on not bringing the smell into the house, so pipeweed was forbidden except outdoors.

"Aye, sir, I know what you mean. Rosie and I were just saying the other day that we might ask the Gaffer to baby-sit for us one night so we could have a little fun-"

 _"No, stop!"_ Both hobbits jumped from their chairs. That voice was Elanor's, and each of them realized they hadn't heard the children for a few minutes. They ran outside but didn't see them anywhere.

"Where'd they go?" Pippin asked, glancing around worriedly. Just then another scream sounded that came from the side of the house. They rushed toward it and were greeted with the sight of their sons wrestling with two other hobbit-lads in what appeared to be the wreckage of Sam's garden. The girls were standing off to the side in distress and holding Merry-lad and Pippin-lad back. Frodo was managing to hold his own, but Faramir's opponent was beating him badly, striking blow after blow to his face. Pippin felt something primal snap inside him and he grabbed the lad's arm and yanked him hard so that he fell backward. Sam did the same for Frodo, yelling, "That's enough! Break it up, now, break it up!"

Pippin grabbed Faramir up and held him tight as his son started to cry, keeping his eyes on the hobbit who had been on top of him. This one was twice Faramir's size, but less than half of Pippin's. Frodo socked him in the arm before Sam pulled him back.

"What happened here?" Sam asked.

Frodo pointed at what remained of Sam's garden. The flowers, which had been carefully planted and tended in such a way that would keep them alive in winter, had been uprooted and carelessly thrown every which way. Some of the plants had their leaves ripped off and others had been crushed so that the whole plot of land was sad looking. "Look what they did to your garden, Da! They was ruining it and Faramir and I tried to stop 'em."

"Aw, it was just a couple of stupid flowers," one of the lads muttered. Pippin recognized them now as two of them Sackville Baggins' children.

Sam faced them now. "That true? You two come on my property and try to destroy my garden?" Pippin noted he said "my" with exceptional pride.

Frodo spoke indignantly before they could respond. "We were playing and Faramir saw them wrecking it and he told them to stop and they wouldn't and so Faramir and I had to beat them up." The girls nodded and said, "It's true, Da, they were only trying to protect your plants."

Sam grabbed the lads' shoulders and gave them a glare so hard even Pippin felt guilty. "You ever come on my property or touch one of my children again, you'll have me to answer to, and it won't be pretty. Got it?" They nodded and slunk off, knowing they'd be no match for a hobbit as tall as Pippin or muscular as Sam.

As soon as they had left, Sam turned to Frodo. "As for you, you're not to go getting into fights with other lads, no matter what they do. I've taught you better than that."

"But Da-"

"No buts. I don't care what they do or what they say, you don't fight. You see them tearing up my garden, you come get me. Understand?" Frodo nodded sullenly. "Come on everybody, let's go inside for the night."

"But what about your flowers?" Elanor asked tearfully.

Sam sighed. "Not much I can do for 'em now. But I'll see about maybe planting some new ones in the morning. Let's just be grateful they didn't go after my vegetables, that would have been a mite harder to lose."

When they had trooped inside and Sam had sent his children to bed, Pippin sat in the big armchair with Faramir, who had stopped crying but was still shaking a little. "Are you all right?" he asked gently. He had never known Faramir to fight with anybody and couldn't help wondering if Frodo had changed a few of the details to save his own skin.

"Mm." Faramir whimpered a bit but didn't lift his face from his father's chest. Pippin stroked his hair. "Are you hurt? Come on now, let me see." He gently tilted up Faramir's chin and winced at seeing a bloodied lip and a swollen cheek.

"I'm right sorry this happened, Mister Pippin," Sam said, hurrying to fetch damp cloths and bandages. "I'd march straight over to their homes and tell their folks right now if I thought it'd do any good. I swear, that family has never forgiven us for taking over what they think is their land." He knelt beside Pippin and dabbed at Faramir's face with the cloth.

"Do you want to tell me what happened, Faramir?" Pippin asked. Faramir shook his head and another tear slipped out. "I promise I won't get mad, love. Just tell me what was said and who threw the first punch." He planned to have a few words with Frodo if he found out the lad had dragged Faramir into a fight. His son wasn't the fighting type and it showed on his face. The one he'd been fighting hadn't had a scratch.

"W-w-was r-running aw-way fr-fr-from the s-s-snowb-balls and s-saw them h-hurting the p-plants," Faramir said. "I s-s-said stop and…" It seemed he couldn't continue, because he shut his eyes tight and shook his head.

"They made fun of him, Da," Goldilocks said. They turned to see her standing in the hallway in her nightdress. "They imitated the way he talks and made fun of him, saying they heard in school that he paints all wrong and can't get his shapes and colors right. Faramir got upset, but he told them you worked hard on that garden and they said that you were nothing but a low-class working hobbit and that was all you'd ever be. And Faramir said," she looked over at him with a newfound respect in her eyes. "He said that you were one of the best hobbits he'd ever known and that they had no reason to be treating it like that. But they wouldn't listen, so Faramir pushed them. Then they started beating on him and that's when Frodo joined in. They'd only been going a few seconds when you and Mister Pippin came out."

They were silent for a little while as the information sunk in. Sam nodded. "Thank you, Goldilocks. Now go back to bed." She did so and he smiled at Faramir. "Sure appreciate you defending my garden, little one," he said.

Faramir looked up at his father. "D-d-daddy, are you a-angry?"

Pippin sniffed as he felt tears begin to roll down his cheeks, and he quickly shifted Faramir to his shoulder so he wouldn't be scared. "No, I'm not angry." There was nothing worse, in his mind, than those who thought working hobbits were beneath them, and here his own son, shy and scared as he was, had stuck up for one. Gone up against two lads who were much bigger for the sake of what was right.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispered and hugged Faramir tight. "I love you so much."


	5. Father to Son

It was late at night when they returned home to a snowed-in front walk and a somewhat unwelcome guest. Paladin Took was sitting in Pippin's favorite chair, reading an old book and looking disgruntled. Faramir clutched Pippin's hand a little tighter; his Grand-Da could be intimidating with his narrow eyes and long fingers that seemed permanently fixed into an accusatory point.

Pippin patted his head. "Go on, son. Get into your nightclothes and climb into bed. I'll be in to tuck you in soon." Faramir took a few hesitant steps, then scurried into his room and closed the door without looking at Paladin.

Pippin wandered into the kitchen and opened the pantry. "Best I can offer you is to brew up some tea. We've been gone for some time, so there isn't much left."

"That's quite all right," Paladin said gruffly. Pippin started to respond, but Faramir called his name and he was forced to retreat to his son's bedroom. Faramir depended on his coming in to say goodnight; he claimed he couldn't go to sleep otherwise and might have nightmares.

"W-w-why is G-g-grand-Da h-here?" Faramir asked a little fearfully.

Pippin tried not to look too concerned as he shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose he wanted to see you." He tweaked Faramir's nose. "Who wouldn't want to see such a wonderful little lad, hmm?" Faramir smiled and Pippin kissed his forehead. "Sleep well."

He pulled the door as closed as he could without shutting it completely- Faramir was afraid of the dark and requested that he leave it slightly ajar so that the light from the living room would spill into his room. Normally Pippin didn't mind this, but tonight he had a bad feeling that he and his father were going to exchange words. He yawned and tried to push down his resentment. _Could he not have at least waited until I had recovered from the trip?_

Still, he managed to put on a respectful face as he picked up his pipe and settled down into the chair across from Paladin. The old hobbit had set his book aside and now sat back in the chair with his arms folded, apparently expecting Pippin to speak first.

"I'm sorry I haven't answered any of your letters," Pippin said, thinking it best to start the conversation kindly. "My son keeps me very busy." This was only partially true. Pippin had not been on speaking terms with his father since Diamond had died, though whether his father was aware of this Pippin couldn't be sure. Paladin had made it no secret that he thought it best for Faramir to live with one of Pippin's sisters. Pippin had insisted that his son was his burden, not theirs, but Paladin had been firm in that he didn't believe in fathers raising children alone. Pippin rather thought the problem was that Paladin didn't believe in _him_ raising a child alone. Visits to his family had been strained and less frequent since then, with little conversation passing between the two of them outside of small talk.

"I see he's still tripping over his words when he speaks," Paladin said. "Would have thought he'd grown out of that by now."

Pippin frowned and spoke in a clipped tone. "Is there a particular reason you've come to visit, Father? Anything I can help you with?"

Paladin sat up straighter. "There is something I wish to say to you that I have been meaning to say for a while, and seeing as you do not answer my letters and this is the only time of year when I am not swamped with work, I figured I'd better go ahead and visit."

"Would you like me to guess, Father?"

Paladin was wearing his trademark expression, something not quite a glare but close to it. "Son, I will not mince words. I am here to request that you marry again."

Pippin nearly choked on his pipe. "What? You cannot ask me to do a thing like that!" He set his pipe on the table next to him, the substance gone.

Paladin didn't flinch. "I believe that being your father grants me the privilege of asking you whatever I like."

Pippin shook his head. "You may be my father, but only I am fit to decide if I wish to marry again, and quite frankly I don't." He hadn't even thought of another lass since Diamond's passing. It had been too painful.

"It's been nearly five years, my son."

Pippin glared. "With respect, are you suggesting that merely because some time has passed, I should not miss my wife?"

"I suggest no such thing. I am merely thinking of your needs and the needs of our family."

Pippin closed his eyes and tried not to cry. He was so tired, mentally and physically. "No one is more aware than I am of how much Faramir could benefit from a mother. But I do the best I can to raise him, and so far he seems to have turned out all right."

"I am not thinking only of that, Peregrin," Paladin said. He took some time to compose his thoughts, then said, "I am old, Peregrin. I do not have many years left, and when I am gone, you will be Thain. The Thain must have an heir."

Pippin furrowed his brows. "Is your memory aging as well? You seem to forget that I _do_ have an heir."

"You have Faramir."

The room was deathly silent. Pippin had been rocking back and forth in his chair, but now came to a complete halt. Not even a cricket chirped as the two stared at each other and Paladin's implication began to sink in. Pippin spoke with a hard edge that Paladin had never heard from him before.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Paladin groaned. "Oh Peregrin, are you really going to force me to say it out loud?"

"Say _what_ out loud? What exactly are you implying?"

Paladin stood up and Pippin swore he could see a glimpse of the Old Took in his eyes, the one who was four feet tall and could ride a horse. "Your son is not fit to be Thain, Peregrin Took. Plain and simple."

Pippin stood up and felt a surge of pride at being able to tower over his father. "My son will make a perfectly fine Thain, and how dare you say otherwise."

"I have every right to say what I will, and I believe that another heir is needed." Before Pippin could retort, Paladin held up his hand. "It is not out of malice that I say this, but practicality. I am fond of Faramir, but he cannot speak well- when he speaks at all, which as you know is seldom- and if I tell him it's raining cats and dogs outside, he asks me if we can keep one of them as a pet."

Pippin laughed. "So you are questioning his abilities simply because he's got a little stutter and a joke happened to go over his head? He's not even five years old yet! Far too young for you to be making judgments like this."

"I have spoken to Camilla, Meriadoc, and the Gamgees. If Faramir won't even socialize enough to play games with other children, how can we possibly expect him to resolve civil disputes as an adult?"

Pippin blinked back tears and decided to repeat what everyone else had told him. "Give him time, Father. He's only a child, he'll likely be a different hobbit entirely by the time he's needed to be Thain."

Paladin rubbed his eyes. Pippin thought he had aged a few more years since he'd last seen him several months ago. He'd never quite recovered from the Scouring of the Shire; it had bent his shoulders and drooped his face permanently. "Peregrin, I do not have time. Already my knees are stiffening as I walk and I find myself squinting to read papers. Before I leave this world, I want to know that our position will be in good hands."

"It will, Father," Pippin insisted, but when Paladin only shook his head again Pippin grew angry. "My son is not stupid! He is just as smart as any other hobbit, and besides, you've always been of the belief that the only person fit to be Thain is yourself!"

The room was silent again, except for a small creak as a door opened nearby. Pippin turned to see Faramir's curly head poking out. His eyes were wide and he was hugging Bunny. Pippin softened his voice and said, "Go back to sleep, son. Grand-Da and I were just having a discussion. Sorry if we woke you." Faramir slipped back inside and Pippin faced his father and spoke in a harsh whisper. "He and I may not be everything you wanted in a son or grandson, but we're what you've got. I'll not be marrying again nor will I tell him any of what you've said. I'll let you have that honor."

Paladin didn't say a word as Pippin whirled around, disappeared into his bedroom, and closed the door as hard as he could without slamming it. He sank down into an armchair, buried his wrinkled face in his gnarled hands, and sighed. His hair covered his fingers, and he thought it was even lighter and thinner than he'd ever remembered seeing it.


	6. Breakdown

Paladin was gone by the time Pippin and Faramir woke up the next morning, but his words stayed in Pippin's head for weeks and they began to affect his mood. He found himself snappier than normal, less inclined to speak to anybody, and feeling more impatient with Faramir's stutter by the day. Shortly after his fifth birthday, Pippin sat his son down and tried to prepare himself for the reaction that was sure to follow the decision he'd recently made. One way or another, he would show his father that Faramir _was_ fit to be Thain, and a perfectly fine one at that.

"Son," he said, and Faramir gazed at him anxiously. "You cannot always be afraid to speak to people, and the only way to get over that is to face your fear. Therefore, I want you to practice speaking with me for one hour every day."

To see Faramir's face, one would think Pippin had suggested removing all of his limbs. He shook his head hard and his expression went from anxious to pitiful, but Pippin remained firm. "Yes, Faramir. You're going to practice and I'm going to help you." He reached into a sack he'd brought and pulled out a few cards. Camilla had lent him some that she used to build children's vocabulary, and Bilbo had left some behind from the days when he used to entertain his younger cousins at Bag End. "I'm going to hold these up to you and you're going to say the words out loud. Then we we've gone through them, I'll ask you a few questions and you can practice sentences. All right?"

Faramir again shook his head. "This is not up for discussion. You need the practice. Now," he held up a card that read _Apple_ and had a drawing of the fruit on it. This would be a good one to start with since Faramir often struggled with double letters. "Say 'apple.'" He pronounced it as clearly as he could. Faramir didn't move. "Say it."

"N-no Daddy-"

"Say it."

"N-no, I d-d-don't want to!"

"Say it." Faramir tried to scoot off the couch, but Pippin grabbed his arm and held him fast. "Faramir, I am not playing around. Say the word. I want you to commit to an hour, and then you may have the rest of the day to paint or do whatever you like. But you are not leaving until you've had a full hour of practicing."

Faramir's cheeks began to turn red and Pippin could already see tears. "A-a-a-" He shut his eyes tight and shook his head again. "I c-c-can't."

"Yes you can. I know you can, you just need to try." His son started to sob and Pippin tried to soften his voice. "Listen love, it's all right if you mess up or you don't get it on the first try, but you have to at least attempt it. That's the only way you're going to get any better." Pippin was sure now this was true. At five years old, it was clear that waiting wasn't working.

Faramir opened his eyes and a tear slid down his cheek. He looked at the card. "A-a-ap-p-p-" Pippin's heart bled for him; it looked like each syllable was costing him great effort, but he had to be strict or Faramir wouldn't commit. "It's t-too hard!" he whined.

"No it isn't. Just try again."

"A-a-a-p-p-pull," he finally gasped out.

Pippin nodded. "Good. Now say it again."

 _"No!"_ Faramir screamed so suddenly that Pippin almost jumped. Faramir snatched the card out of his hand and threw it to the ground. Again he tried to get away, but Pippin caught him and wrestled him down.

"Like I said, this is not up for discussion." He struggled to keep his voice even. It would do no good for both of them to have a tantrum. "Son, don't you _want_ to be able to speak normally?"

"No!"

That was a surprise. "Why not?" He didn't answer. "Faramir, talk to me!"

"No."

"Say no one more time and see what happens." Probably not the best choice of words, but Pippin's patience was running short. He reached for another card. This one read, "Flower." "Try this one."

Still brushing back tears, Faramir said, "Fuh-fluh-fow-wer."

"That wasn't quite right. Watch my lips, Faramir. Full-ow-er." He said it as slowly as he could, emphasizing every lip movement. Faramir studied his face and Pippin said it again, this time enunciating even more. "Fuh-ul-ow-er."

Faramir stared at him and Pippin started to say the word again when Faramir sobbed. "Y-you f-fink I'm s-s-stupid t-too."

Pippin nearly dropped the card in shock. "What? No, this isn't about you being stupid. Of course you're not stupid. You just need some practice, that's all." He couldn't tell if Faramir was listening, so he pulled him into his arms. "It's all right, we'll work on it together. You can do it if you try." He looked into Faramir's eyes and tried to use a pleading expression. "Can you please just try?"

Faramir sniffed. "D-don't w-wanna try." He clutched Pippin's arms. "I d-don't _want_ to t-talk to anyb-body."

* * *

"W-where are you t-t-taking me?" Faramir asked as Pippin yanked him along the dirt road. His face was still tearstained and blotchy red from crying.

Pippin wouldn't look at him. "To your Aunt Pearl's house. You're going to stay with her for a while."

"N-no!" He tried to twist out of Pippin's grip, but couldn't. "W-why?"

"Because frankly, I need a break from you."

When he spoke those words, Faramir wailed like his very heart had been broken and didn't stop even when Pippin dropped him off and deposited him into his auntie's arms. Pearl was the sister Pippin was closest to and the only member of his family that he kept in close touch with, and she had generously offered to watch Faramir whenever he needed help. He had only taken her up on that offer once before when he'd fallen sick, and even that had only been for two days. Pearl was fond of Faramir and often let him draw on her walls, but today even she couldn't soothe him.

Pippin stalked back to his house, kicking every rock in his path. He had known Faramir wouldn't be happy about practicing, but he'd no idea his son would be _this_ unmotivated. Making him finish out the hour had been like pulling teeth, and it had ended with Faramir kicking and screaming on the floor like he hadn't done since he was teething as a baby. And him not wanting to talk to anybody? It was pathetic.

"Pippin?" He stopped and turned around. Merry was strolling toward him nice as you please, smoking his pipe. "Hullo there! Thought I'd drop in and surprise you."

Pippin shook his head. "I'm not in the mood." He entered his home and a confused Merry followed him in.

"Whoa now, what's the matter? Where's Faramir?"

"He's at Pearl's." Pippin began tidying up the mess of cards that had spilled all over the living room floor. Of all the days for Merry to come visit unannounced, this had to be the worst he could have chosen. Pippin couldn't remember being in a worst frame of mind.

Merry wandered in, set his pipe down, and put his hand on his hips. "Care to tell me what's wrong?"

"Is it not obvious?" Pippin snapped. "My only son is the strangest and slowest child in the Shire and he has the least amount of courage of anyone I know, that's what's wrong."

Merry was speechless and he almost had a mind to sock Pippin for speaking about his little cousin that way. "How can you say such a thing? You've told me many times yourself that Faramir is the best thing that's ever happened to you."

"Not today he isn't."

Merry hardened his voice. "Pippin, what happened? Why are you saying these things?"

"Because I can't take it anymore!" Pippin shouted as he stomped circles around the living room. "He's afraid of _everything_! Bees, bugs, heights, the dark, snakes, spiders, school, speaking, other hobbits. It doesn't matter how many times I leave him with someone or how punctual I am in picking him up from school, he's still afraid I won't come back." Pippin's face was red now. "He won't even go outside half the time unless I make him because he's afraid of thunderstorms or getting hurt or getting lost or who knows what else. The only thing in the entire world he _isn't_ afraid of are these blasted paints!" He kicked the buckets hard; thankfully they were almost empty and the lids had been pushed down tight. "I keep telling him to pick them up and he doesn't listen."

Merry might have pointed out that at least Faramir had taken the time to stack them neatly and that Pippin had only succeeded in making a bigger mess by kicking them over, but he thought better of it. He could hardly remember seeing Pippin this furious.

"And as if that weren't enough, he has a terrible stutter that he absolutely refuses to do anything about. I _tried_ to help him, Merry. I tried to get him to practice talking so that people will stop making fun of him, but apparently he must enjoy being the laughing stock of Tuckborough, because he fought me tooth and nail at every step."

"Just give him some time-"

"That's what everyone says!" Pippin exploded, and Merry jumped back. He was pacing the floor so rapidly that Merry began to feel dizzy watching him. "Give him time. He'll grow out of it. It's only a phase. He's only a child. He's a late bloomer. I'm overreacting. Every child is different." He shook his head hard. "I've heard it all before, Merry; a thousand times. But you know what? It doesn't make me feel any better."

"What exactly are you wanting then?" Merry asked a bit crossly. "Are you hoping Faramir will grow a new personality overnight?"

Pippin stopped and held his hands out palms-up, flinging them a bit to emphasize his words. "I just want him to act like a child. Is that too much to ask, Merry? Is that so unreasonable?"

"Whatever makes you think he doesn't?" Merry nearly squeaked he was so indignant. "Frankly, I don't see how he can act any other way."

"I want him to play outside- with other children, not with me- and fall down and scrape his knees and climb trees and get into mischief. I want him to steal a few mushrooms and wear himself out and never be too eager to come inside and stop playing. _That's_ how a hobbit-child of the Shire should act."

Merry just stood there, aghast, feeling as though he were speaking to a stranger. "You're upset because your son prefers to paint instead of raiding Farmer Maggot's crop like we did? That he'd rather plant flowerbeds than get into trouble for running through them?"

Pippin shook his head. "The problem is not so simple as that, Merry-"

"It sounds to me as though your problem is that your son is not exactly like you!"

"You don't understand," Pippin said and slapped his leg because there was nothing else to hit. He pushed his other hand through his hair and looked like he wanted to say much more, but his face began to crumple and he barely managed to collapse onto the couch and bury his face in a pillow before his whole body shook and trembled with sobs.

It broke Merry's heart. "Oh Pippin!" He squeezed onto the couch next to him and rubbed his back. The last time Pippin had cried like this was just after Diamond had died, and Merry forced himself to take a few quick breaths so he wouldn't start too.

"My dear Pippin, you have every reason to be proud of your son. He's bright, he's sweet, all who love you love him just as well." He kissed the top of his cousin's head. "Why all these tears?"

He kept rubbing Pippin's back and stroking his curls until he had calmed down enough to speak. "You don't see Faramir when he tries to play with the other children," he whimpered.

"What do you mean? Does Faramir not like them? Is he afraid of them?" Pippin didn't answer and Merry lay on his side and pulled him into a backwards hug. "Talk to me, Pippin. Tell me everything. I want to understand."

Pippin sniffed. "It's not that he doesn't like them. It's that they don't like him. Whenever he tries to join them in a game, it's obvious they don't want him to play. They'll come up with any number of excuses not to let him."

"But why? He's not as bad a ball player or hide-and-seeker as all that."

"As soon as he opens his mouth-" Pippin's voice caught and Merry tightened his hold around him. He didn't need to hear the end of that sentence to understand the meaning behind it.

But that's not even the worst part," Pippin whispered. He needed a moment before he could continue. "The worst part is Faramir's reaction." He turned his head so he was looking at Merry.

"And what is that?" Merry asked, picturing big green eyes full of tears. Eyes just like Pippin's.

"He looks…" Pippin swallowed a few times but sobbed anyway. "He looks as though he expects it. I can see in his eyes that he can't imagine them acting any other way, and when I see him like that, like he can't even feel disappointed anymore- Merry, it feels like a punch in the stomach." He clung tightly to Merry and looked pleadingly into his eyes. "Why, Merry? Why can't anyone else see how special he is? Why won't they give him a chance?"

"They _will_ , Pip," Merry said, though even he didn't believe it. He was brushing away his own tears now. He would never admit it to Pippin, but he knew in his heart of hearts that if someone like Faramir had approached him when he was a lad, he would have probably done the same as these children. Made up a polite excuse to get him away (they wanted to keep an even number, the game was only meant for two, Faramir might have a hard time keeping up, they had to stop playing in a few moments anyway) and then keep right on playing with someone who was more fun. He wouldn't say so to Pippin, but Merry knew a lad who was small and fragile, stuttered to the point of being afraid to open his mouth, and refused to part with his bunny or make any mischief would never stand much chance of having friends. Unless of course they were built-in friendships engineered by the parents, such as with Sam and Rosie's children.

Pippin sighed and wiped his eyes. "Sam and Rosie have been a wonderful help," he said, and Merry started a little at how Pippin had read his mind. "But as kind as their children have been, I can tell even they only play with Faramir because Sam makes them."

Merry didn't know what to say. He simply stroked Pippin's hair and tried not to cry himself.

"I don't want to change him, Merry," Pippin said. His tears were dry now. "I love him the way he is, truly and honestly, but I'm also afraid to let him be who he is. I'm afraid that by doing so he will never allow himself to _live_. The Shire may well be the safest place in all of Middle-earth. If he's this nervous here, how would he ever get along outside our borders?"

Merry touched his cheek. "You realize of course, my friend, that when it comes to leaving the Shire and having adventures, you and I were the exception and not the rule? If Faramir does choose to spend his life here, you can hardly blame him. We were reluctant to leave ourselves, and there were many moments on the quest where we wished we never had."

Pippin nodded and looked off into the distance. "I've been wanting to take him to Minas Tirith for years. I want him to meet all our old friends. The king, Lady Éowyn, his namesake Faramir. I even considered taking him by Fangorn Forest so he could meet Treebeard. Each year I've waited for him to be old enough and waited for him to be ready. But I'm beginning to fear he never will be."

"He will probably feel much better if he's with you," Merry offered. "And who knows? Maybe a trip will be just what he needs. He could come back to the Shire with twice the confidence he left with." He smiled. "I know I did."

Pippin smiled back. "As did I. But there's also the problem of his missing school. Given the choice, I wonder which he'd fear more."

Merry thought a moment. "What if he were to meet a Big Person here in the Shire? That might make it easier for him to cope with seeing them outside of it."

Pippin snorted. "Fat chance of that. Big People don't come here anymore without the king's permission." He saw Merry's raised eyebrows and laughed. "Merry, you are not seriously suggesting that I write to Gondor and ask them to visit?"

Merry grinned. "Let me up so I can fetch you some paper and a quill. I think it's time your son met his namesake."


	7. Not Like Other Lads

Although Faramir's enthusiasm for speech practice failed to increase in the slightest, Pippin felt better. Merry had stayed for a few more hours while Pippin poured out his worries to him, and after sending a letter to Gondor, he felt as though this little burst of anger had been just what he needed. _I suppose if I had to explode like that, I'm grateful Faramir wasn't around to see it,_ he often thought.

He also thought that the practice was helping, if only a little bit. If nothing else, Faramir's hatred of the practice gave him a small amount of motivation; Pippin told him that if he refused to cooperate, he would make the practice longer. The stutter was still there, but Faramir seemed to relax a bit when Pippin gave him a small leather-bound notebook, a quill, and a travel-size bottle of ink. "If you get stuck, you can try to write down what you want to say." It wasn't a huge help since Faramir could only write simple words and his spelling wasn't the best, but at least he wasn't as afraid to communicate now.

Which was why, on the night of Open House, Pippin was whistling cheerfully as he dressed himself and Faramir in their best clothes. "Are you excited, laddie?" he asked, pinching Faramir's cheek. "Excited for Daddy to meet all your classmates and see what you've learned?"

"Y-yes," he said, blushing a bit. "Is she gonna t-talk ab-bout me?"

"I don't know," Pippin said, running a brush over the hair on his feet. "She might. But then again she's got an awful lot of children, so she may not." In truth, he wasn't sure what to expect at Open House. He didn't remember his own as a child, and as he'd been the youngest of the family, he'd never gone to anyone else's. Supposedly it was a night when, at the start of spring, Camilla opened the school at night and invited all the parents to view the projects her students had worked on, like artwork and toys and clothing the girls had sewn. She would give a little speech to the parents about what the children did, how much they'd learned, and so on. Sometimes the class put on a little show where the children would sing and dance for the parents, but this year not as many students had shown interest and only a few were performing.

Pippin stood up and put the brush away. He checked the looking glass and straightened his vest. If anything, he was more nervous than Faramir was. Aside from his family and the Gamgees, he always felt insecure among the other parents. All of them had started having children younger, had more of them, and none were single parents. They always looked at him with pity, remembering him as the mischievous young Took who was in trouble every other day and probably wondering what kind of father he could possibly be.

"Daddy." He felt a tug on his pant leg and looked down to see Faramir holding out his arms, with Bunny gripped in one of his hands. "P-pick me up!" He hopped a little and Pippin smiled. Wanting to be held was a sure sign that Faramir was nervous.

"All right, but you're getting mighty big for that," he said, and grunted as he lifted his son into his arms. "Are we ready?"

"Yes." Pippin kissed his cheek and turned out the lights. He had just closed all the windows when a knock sounded at the door. With Faramir still in his arms, Pippin curiously answered it.

"Hullo there," Merry said sheepishly. He held a bedroll under one arm. "I'm awfully sorry to bother you at this time of night, but Estel threw me out. Told me not to bother coming back for at least a week."

Pippin laughed. Diamond had done the same to him several times when she had been pregnant. It was almost a tradition among hobbit lasses. "Of course. But we were just about to leave. Faramir has Open House tonight, though you're welcome to join us if you want."

"Thanks, I think I will," Merry said. He stowed his bedroll in Pippin's living room and joined them outside, where Pippin set Faramir down and locked the door. The three of them started down the road and over the hill, enjoying the warm spring night and the cloudless sky full of stars. "Are Sam and Rosie coming?"

"Just Rosie, I think," Pippin said. "Sam offered to come, but she insisted that she wanted to. They couldn't both come; somebody had to stay home with the other children."

"Suppose it's just as well," Merry said. "It's more of a mother's domain anyway." He immediately realized what he'd said and froze with horror. "Oh Pip, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's all right, Merry," Pippin said quickly, hoping Faramir hadn't heard. The little lad was a few feet behind them, struggling to keep up because they were so much taller and he was carrying Bunny. "I know I'll probably get a few looks, and more than likely I'll be the only father there. But I can live with that." He looked behind him and held out his hand to Faramir, who quickly ran to take it so he could walk side by side with him. Merry and Pippin slowed their pace to make it easier for him.

"So how is Estel these days?" Pippin asked. "I could tell from your letter that the news was quite a shock."

"Yep," Merry said, and Pippin couldn't tell if he was happy or not. "She's over the moon with joy- when she isn't like this anyway- but I can't decide how I feel yet. Suppose I'll make up my mind once the little lad or lass is born."

"Your life will certainly change," Pippin said, ruffling Faramir's hair. "But I find that's often a good thing."

* * *

Open House was much more crowded than either of them had expected it to be. Rows of chairs had been set up for quite a few yards, and Camilla stood on the same raised platform under the same lanterns that had been used for Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday celebration. Next to her was a stack of paintings, and after the welcome speech, during which she expressed her gratitude for all the parental support, she loved working with their children and so on, she began to showcase the artwork.

"One of our most traditional projects is to have the children paint pictures of the schoolhouse itself," she announced. "They've all done a wonderful job and you should be very proud." She picked up the first one and held it up so that they could see it. It was a little sloppy, but decent. "This is Dana's." Dana's mother cheered and everyone else nodded appreciatively. "This is Tom's," Camilla said, holding another one.

Down the list she went, showing every painting and occasionally saying that she thought the children in question had done a fine job. The mothers oohed and ahhed- Pippin had been right in his prediction that he would be the only father there- and the children blushed with pride and sometimes embarrassment. Pippin was starting to get a little bored when Camilla held up a painting of a rainbow schoolhouse sitting in a field of grass that reached all the way up to the polka dotted sky. The flowers and hobbits in the picture were odd looking too. Pippin knew even before Faramir squeezed his hand that the picture was his.

Camilla gave a short laugh. "And this funny little thing is Faramir Took's," she said, rolling her eyes a bit. "As you can see, he tried, but he clearly didn't understand what goes where. I'm sure you all know how he is."

Merry and Rosie both stared at the teacher in shock, and each of them turned and whispered something to Pippin and Faramir. Something about not to worry and how could she say such a thing, but Pippin didn't hear a word of it. He sat rigidly still and didn't take his glare off Camilla.

The way she had spoken about his son, as if he were a basket case with no intelligence whatsoever, sparked a fire in Pippin's chest. He gripped the edge of his seat hard and at that moment he felt like he could slay ten thousand orcs with his bare hands. The only thing keeping him from lunging at Camilla and tackling her to the ground right then and there was Faramir. He had hung his head upon seeing the look she gave his painting, and was crying quietly in Pippin's lap. Pippin put his arms around him and kissed his curls, trying hard to keep himself from trembling with anger. The last thing he wanted was for Faramir to think it was directed at him.

When at last Camilla had said thank you and the parents had finished clapping and got up to leave, Pippin handed Faramir to Merry. "I'll be right back," he said. "You two stay right here." He didn't wait for an answer before pushing past the other parents and marching right up to Camilla. "I need a word with you. Now."

Camilla raised an eyebrow, but didn't seem fazed. She gestured to the side of the schoolhouse and followed him there. "Yes, Master Took?"

"How could you do that to him?" It was all Pippin could do not to scream and he could feel his face getting redder. "How could you humiliate a five-year-old child in front of everybody?" She started to say something, but he cut her off. "Every child his age in the entire Shire just heard you call my son an idiot. What do you think that's going to do to him?"

"I did not call your son an idiot, Master Took."

"You may as well have done, and don't bother denying it! You spoke of him as though he hasn't got a brain in his head and said that he didn't understand colors. You know as well as I do he understands just fine, and he is every bit as intelligent as the rest of us."

Camilla sighed. "Even you surely cannot deny that your son is different."

"So what?" Pippin spread his arms. "Who cares if he wants to paint the grass red or the sky green? It doesn't hurt anything. It certainly didn't warrant your making a fool of him. Don't you know he has a hard enough time with people as it is without you giving them reason to think there's something wrong with him?"

"There _is_ something wrong with him, Master Took, and it does no one any good to pretend otherwise. In regards to the painting, if he did not want me to show it at Open House, he should have said so-"

"You could have shown it without adding unnecessary commentary, or better yet, keep your ugly thoughts to yourself. You certainly didn't seem to have a problem extending that courtesy to the other children."

"The other children painted theirs correctly. If your son is not smart enough to realize that grass is green, I hardly think that's my fault. And it's also not my fault that he can't speak properly." She threw up her hands. "Everyone knows it, so what's the use in hiding it? When I said 'you know how he is,' that's what I was referring to. I hardly think it came as a surprise to anybody."

"Speaking with a stutter and painting differently does not constitute stupidity," Pippin said.

"It certainly constitutes slowness, wouldn't you agree?"

"You know, there is not one child in your class that's perfect. I suppose if I were like you, I would get up on that stage and tell everyone in the Shire that Tippy Proudfoot is obscenely fat, or that Lily Bolger always belches loudly after every meal or that the little Bracegirdle lad has one leg slightly shorter than the other and can barely walk two feet without tripping all over himself because of it. Sure, folks may already know these things, but it's still incredibly cruel to _announce_ them in front of _everyone_!" Pippin's voice turned shrill at that last part and he thought he might cry. He badly wanted to shake her and drill it into her head how much she'd probably damaged Faramir's sense of worth and reputation among the children. "Do you not understand what singling him out will do to my son? No one will want to play with him now." He blinked hard to keep the tears back. "They're all going to make fun of him."

Camilla rubbed her head. "I hate to tell you this, Master Took, but they already do. Your son has been a problem child from his first day here. The only activity he shows any interest in is painting, and even when he does that, he gets it wrong." She shrugged. "There's only so much I can do."

Pippin fixed his glare and held his hand down to keep from slapping her. "Well, lucky for you my son is no longer going to be a 'problem child' because he won't be coming back." He whirled around and stalked into the fields behind the school. "This school is not getting so much as one penny from me ever again!"

When he had gotten far enough away that he wouldn't be seen, Pippin flung himself into the grass and sobbed. He grasped at blades, pulling on them and breaking them in his fists as he cried so hard it hurt. He felt a hand on his back and rolled over. Rosie was looking down at him with tears in her eyes too.

"I'm so sorry, Mister Pippin. It ain't right, what she said. I may speak to Sammy about pulling our children out of there too."

Pippin hiccupped as he tried to stem his tears long enough to talk. "You don't need to do that," he said.

"I think we should. If she'd said something like that about one of my babes, I'd have knocked her senseless. And Sammy might have done worse." She sat down and ran her hand through Pippin's hair. "He may not say so for fear it wouldn't be proper, but we all think of you two as family."

"Thank you," Pippin said. He sat up and sniffled. "Now I've got to homeschool him myself- or hire him a tutor, I guess, and I confess I'm not sure how to go about doing that." He rubbed his eyes as they moistened again. "I'm not sure _what_ to do for him, Rosie. I want to help him speak and I want to show everyone how smart he is, but I don't know how. And if I make a mistake, he'll-" he shook his head. "I just love him so much it hurts."

"I know you do, Mister Pippin. Anyone with eyes can see that." She offered him her hand and helped him stand up. "Got to be going now. I can't leave Daisy and Primrose with Mister Merry forever, and Hamfast is probably driving poor Sammy up the wall by now."

Pippin smiled. "I hope Faramir doesn't think I believe what she said. But if nothing else, at least I'll be able to tell him he won't have to go to school anymore." He took a deep breath. "If only I knew for sure whether taking him out is the right thing to do. It's the only social opportunity he's got."

"I don't think any of us know for sure what the right thing to do is when it comes to our babes," Rosie said as they approached Merry, who was finding himself frazzled and stretched thin trying to look after three small children at once. "But you bring little Mister Faramir by our place anytime and we'll see to it he's got someone to play with."

"Thank you," Pippin said, and he and Merry bade her goodnight as she took her children and headed off. Merry handed Pippin his son, who was still crying. "Faramir?" The little lad looked up. Pippin brushed his hair back. "I want you to remember something for me, okay?"

"O-okay."

"I love you more than anything or anyone in the entire world, and you are one of the smartest hobbits I know. Do you think you can remember that?" Faramir nodded. "Can you say it back to me?"

Faramir hesitated, but said, "Y-you l-l-love me m-more than anyfing or anyone in the ent-tire w-world, and I'm one of the s-smartest h-h-hobbits you know."

"That's right." Pippin kissed his forehead and gave him a fierce hug. "Make sure you always remember that."


	8. Faramirs Unite

With that nightmarish incident behind them, Pippin felt more determined than ever to get Faramir out of the Shire for a while. Too many people had witnessed what Camilla had done at Open House and were either tiptoeing around it or were acting apologetic, and Pippin couldn't decide which was worse. He sent another, more urgent letter to Gondor giving a basic outline of what had happened without going into too much detail. Aragorn had already given the Steward leave to visit and claimed he was on his way. Pippin thought he couldn't come fast enough.

As for little Faramir, he pretended not to care about what Camilla had said, but Pippin wasn't fooled. Instead of digging his brushes right into his paints and splashing them all over the paper, Faramir simply sat there swirling them around, as if he couldn't decide what to paint or where to start. He begrudgingly practiced speaking and Pippin thought he saw an improvement, but that may have been wishful thinking on his part.

"Son," he said one day, putting a hand on the lad's shoulder. "You forget all about what Miss Camilla said, okay? You paint whatever you want and don't worry about what anyone else thinks." Faramir had smiled and nodded, but still hesitated when sitting at his paints. He simply held Bunny and stroked its ears, looking lost.

Pippin was relieved when finally he heard the clip-clop of hooves and upon glancing out the window, saw a wonderfully familiar man sitting astride a horse. Unable to stand it any longer, he raced out the door to meet his friend, who pulled on the reins to slow his horse and dismounted with a smile.

"My lord, it's so good to see you!" Pippin cried as he ran with his arms outstretched. Faramir enveloped him in a hug and pat his back. "Thank you so much for visiting. I know it isn't much compared to the splendor of Minas Tirith, but it's cozy at least."

"It is beautiful, Peregrin, and too long since I've had the pleasure of seeing your face." Faramir smiled, and Pippin's heart warmed at seeing it again. There were hundreds of kind men in Rohan and Gondor and he would always owe the king his life and more, but there was something about this man that felt like a kindred spirit to Pippin.

Faramir stood and beckoned to someone behind him. Pippin saw now that he had brought a guard who was riding another horse. "Please take my horse someplace where he can feed on grass. He's well earned it." He stroked the horse's muzzle tenderly and handed the reins to he guard, who took them obediently and led the horse away after Faramir had relieved it of his pack. He and Pippin began walking down the rest of the dirt road toward his home.

"Did you have safe passage?" Pippin asked. He been told that all was peaceful now, but one could never be too sure, especially if Faramir saw fit to bring a guard along.

"Yes, it was very quiet. If you mean to ask about the guard, the king insisted. And it may come in handy to have another horse at the ready."

Pippin was curious to know what was meant by that, but before he could ask, he saw his son's curly head peek out from behind the front door and immediately poke back inside. He hadn't told him about the visitor, thinking it would only scare him more. He knew from his own experience that what a child's imagination cooked up often proved far worse than the real thing.

"Sorry the door is so low," he said. Faramir practically had to fold himself in half to get through without bumping his head. "Please join us for lunch. I already have some sandwiches ready."

"Thank you, Peregrin. I would be honored."

"Just one moment, let me fetch my son." He headed to the bedroom where, as he'd expected, the lad was hiding under the covers. "Come on, Faramir. We have company." The only answer was a whimper and a little shiver from the huddled form. Pippin yanked off the blankets. "There's no reason to be frightened. He's a perfectly nice man and an old friend of Daddy's." Faramir tried to crawl back under the blankets, but Pippin quickly snatched him up and set him on the floor. "Listen to me. You are to be on your very best behavior, all right? Your very best." He took his son's wrist and pulled him into the living room. The advantage of his insisting on carrying his bunny around was that it made pulling himself out of Pippin's grasp much harder, and thus Pippin was able to bring the two Faramirs together in the living room.

The little one stood shock-still, staring up at this giant in his father's house. Never in his life had he seen anyone taller than Daddy (except Uncle Merry, but that was only by a teensy bit), and this man towered over him. His clothes were strange; instead of the bright yellows and greens of the Shire, they were dark and decorated with a white tree over the chest. The man was smiling, but a sword was hanging right next to his hand that was longer than Faramir's entire body.

"Hello, little one," the man said gently. "I've been looking forward to meeting you." Even his voice was big. Big and deep. He took a step closer- a step for him would have been a leap for Faramir or Daddy- and Faramir dove for the protection of his father's legs and clutched Bunny like a lifeline.

"Don't be afraid," Daddy said, placing a hand on his son's head. "This is our friend. His name is Faramir too, you were named after him." He looked up at Faramir, then shifted his eyes to the ground. The man took the hint and kneeled on the floor, hoping this would make him less intimidating. At least now his shoulders didn't brush the ceiling.

"There's nothing to fear," Faramir said, holding out his arm. He noticed the little one's eyes were fixed on the sword and he removed it from his waist. "Don't worry, this was only for protection on the journey here." He quickly pushed it to the side.

Pippin nudged little Faramir by pushing his palm against his back, but his son clung to him. "Go on now, remember your manners."

"S-s-s-so b-b-big," Faramir said.

Pippin chuckled a little. "Stature is relative. In the eyes of man, his height is normal and you and I are very small. But it matters not, Faramir is a good man." He gave a little bow. "We are honored to have you as our guest, Steward. I apologize for my son."

"There's no need," Faramir said. He smiled at the little hobbit, remembering what Pippin had said in his letter. _I should warn you: My son is a skittish one; he'll more than likely be terrified of anyone over four feet and he does not speak very well. He is shy even among our kin, so I beg you not be offended if his behavior is less than welcoming. I am hoping that gaining some exposure to Big Folk while he is young will help him to overcome this problem._

Pippin gave him a tour of his home, and Faramir noted with amusement that it was like walking through a dollhouse. Everything was in miniature: the beds, the chairs, the tables. Gandalf had often said that whenever he visited Bilbo, he'd often picnicked his meals outside and had slept on the floor. Faramir could see why; he was afraid to sit in any of the chairs lest he break them, and he knew if he tried to use one of the beds, his legs would dangle right off the edge. And Pippin's furniture was some of the biggest in the Shire.

They soon sat down to a meal outside, much to the relief of Faramir's head and shoulders, and Pippin held his son in his lap to soothe him. The little lad hadn't taken his eyes off the man, not even when Pippin offered him food.

After briefing Pippin on the king and the affairs of the two realms, Faramir said, "I come here not only to visit- though that was certainly the main reason- but also to extend an invitation to you and your son," Faramir said. Pippin stopped mid-chew, interested. "Arenna, daughter of the king and queen, is celebrating her first birthday. There is to be a majestic celebration in Gondor and you, Meriadoc, Samwise, and all of your families are invited to join us."

Pippin shook his head. "My stars, has it been a year already? It seems I received the announcement of her birth only yesterday."

Faramir nodded. "Indeed. Between the king's reconstruction efforts and all the meetings between Gondor, elves, and dwarves, time has flown by. If you would like to attend, you and whoever else wishes it may ride back with me."

Pippin started to say no automatically, but then stopped to consider it. He _had_ been itching for a break from all the gossip in the Shire, and he still longed to see Strider and the others again. If Merry and Sam came, it would be even better, almost like old times. And if Sam's family came- but then Pippin remembered with a pang of regret that both Rosie and Estel were pregnant and their husbands would never leave them on their own while that was the case. But still, this trip could be just what Faramir needed. Pippin could think of no better way to help his son overcome his fears of the world than to see it and travel it. For a hobbit, there was no greater act of bravery. And now that he was no longer in school…

"We would love to," Pippin said. Faramir went still in his arms. Pippin looked down at him and ran his fingers through his hair. "You'll have a grand time, Faramir. Minas Tirith is beautiful. It's a humongous city with some of the finest food-"

"N-n-no," he said, eyes growing huge. "N-no l-l-leave."

"Son-" but Faramir was already squirming out of his arms. Adult Faramir reached for his shoulder. "You and your father will be most welcome there." He started to say more, but in his fright the little lad pushed his hands out and shoved Faramir backward with a surprising amount of force so that the man lost his balance and his head hit the soft earth beneath him.

Pippin was furious. "Faramir Took, you apologize this instant!" But then he caught adult Faramir's eye. The man winked at him and grinned at his namesake.

"That was very good, little one. But I bet you can't do that again." He put his hands on the ground and very slowly started to push himself up. Again the little Took pushed him. It was not quite so hard this time, but Faramir splayed out his arms and yelped as though he'd been struck by an arrow. "Oh! What a hit! Oh, I think as though I may faint!"

Both hobbits were puzzled. Faramir smiled again and slowly pushed himself up once more. "Though I shall attempt to rise, for the sake of Gondor I _will_ get up…I will not be beaten by this little lad from the Shire- ah!" He fell backward dramatically as Faramir pushed him again, gently this time. He rolled around with his hand on the same spot, pretending to moan theatrically. "I've been hit! This could be the end of me. I've been hit." He glanced at the little lad's face and swore he saw a hint of a smile. "No, I will not be down long. I shall raise myself from- no!"

And Faramir pushed him back down, giggling when the man screamed comically. Now he climbed onto his stomach and tried to pin him down. "C-can't g-get up n-n-now!" he said triumphantly. Pippin couldn't help smiling himself.

"Oh, can't I?" Faramir asked slyly. He snuck his fingers into the little hobbit's armpits and tickled him mercilessly. "Can't I? Can't I? Hmm?" Little Faramir shrieked with laughter and Pippin just stared, feeling tears come to his eyes. His son had never laughed like that with anyone except him. That little game had been a stroke of genius; the little lad almost forgotten to be scared.

"N-no! No m-m-more!" Faramir screeched breathlessly, and his namesake scooped him up and stood up with him.

"Little one, how would you like to be even taller than Daddy?" Faramir asked, and the little one nodded eagerly. The man swung the little hobbit onto his shoulders and took careful hold of his feet. "Now look how small your father is compared to you!"

Pippin grinned and stood up, pretending to crane his neck. "Where's my son? He's so high up I can hardly see him!"

"R-right here!" Faramir squealed with delight, running his fingers through the man's hair. "You l-look t-t-tiny, Daddy."

"I'm sure I must from up there," he said. He turned to his friend and put his hand over his heart. _Thank you so much_ , he mouthed. Faramir simply gave him a nod and continued tickling his little namesake's toes, enjoying the giggles that followed.

Pippin brushed a tear from his eyes. He hoped with all his heart that the Steward of Gondor would have children. The man would make an amazing father.


	9. Journey to Gondor

The next few days felt like a dream to Pippin. Not only was his son no longer afraid of Faramir, the two quickly became best friends closer than he would have thought possible. They shared meals, went berry picking, played games, and at night his friend would watch the little lad paint pictures in awe of his talent.

"I've never seen a child so small paint so well," he said. "In fact, I doubt I myself could do any better." He glanced over at Pippin. "You should be very proud, Peregrin."

"I couldn't be prouder," Pippin said happily. His son had spoken more during this visit than he had in months, and while his stutter was still there and worsened when he was excited or nervous, he thought it seemed to be lessening. Just seeing him play outside with somebody, even somebody who wasn't a child, filled him to bursting with excitement.

"It's a p-picture of y-you," Faramir said, and held it up. The man inched forward to see and grinned. His likeness was sporting curly hair and black eyes, and his clothes were going every which way.

"I'd say you captured me just right," he said. "Thank you."

"W-welcome. I j-j-just wish the pink l-looked b-better," he said. "I d-don't have m-many c-c-colors and so I have to m-mix them and then they don't look as g-good."

"Yes, your choices do seem a bit limited," Faramir said, eying the paint buckets.

Pippin spoke up. "Gaffer and Sam have tried to find us different soil so we could give him something other than just the same old ones, but so far they haven't had much luck."

"Mm." Faramir nodded and stood up. "I should retire now. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"That we do," Pippin agreed. "Son, two minutes until bedtime, all right? And make sure you wash your hands real good."

"Okay," little Faramir said, and Pippin was relieved that the prospect of a journey no longer seemed to scare him.

* * *

By morning the next day, the company's bags were packed, the door was locked, and the only hurdle left for them to clear was getting the hobbits on a horse. The guard had lent them his own horse, saying that he would walk to Bree and take another one from there for the return journey. Pippin was able to mount easily enough with some help, but little Faramir was terrified and reluctant to move from the safety of his namesake's legs.

"It's all right, this is a very gentle horse," he said. To prove this, he retrieved a lump of sugar from his pack with one hand and scooped up the child with the other. "This one will eat right out of your hand." He held Faramir up to the horse's face and put the sugar cube in the lad's hand.

"G-g-gonna b-bite me," Faramir said fearfully.

"No he won't. Just hold out your hand and keep still." He gently took the small hand and held it where the horse could see it. Upon seeing his favorite treat, the horse sniffed at the hobbit hand and carefully took the sugar in his mouth with only a gentle brush of the lips against the smooth little palm.

"See? He's a sweet creature, you'll love him," Faramir said, and sat the little one on top of the horse in front of his father before mounting his own horse.

"I'm proud of you," Pippin said, squeezing his shoulders. "It takes a very brave hobbit to feed a horse."

"I-is it gonna go f-fast?"

"Not terribly," Faramir said. He nodded to Pippin. "I trust you know what to do?"

"Of course." They had worked this out the night before. Pippin would guide the horse and Faramir would match their pace. He would start at a gentle walk to get the little one used to the feeling, and then when he was relaxed, they would speed up to a trot and then a gallop. Pippin had been worried about how this would lengthen the trip, a worry he still felt now as the horses began to move and his son gasped and clung to Bunny and the saddle, but Faramir told him not to worry.

"The first day will be the most frightening. He will adapt himself to the journey soon enough."

* * *

Much to Pippin's surprise, little Faramir did adapt himself to the journey after a few days. After feeding the horse several times and riding on him for hours, he finally seemed to understand that the animal was gentle and wouldn't kill him. It helped that the three travelers stuck to the same routine: wake up and eat breakfast, pack up camp and saddle the horses, ride for a few hours, stop for luncheon, ride until dinner, then little Faramir would go to sleep and Pippin and adult Faramir would take turns on watch. Nighttime was still a little scary, but snuggling with his companions in their sleeping bags made the child feel much better. And if nothing else, Faramir was happy to be free from school and enjoyed the beautiful sights of the mountains and towns they passed through. It left him with no shortage of ideas for paintings, and whenever they stopped to cook a meal, he would draw in the dirt with a stick until the food was ready.

The journey proceeded smoothly until they entered Minas Tirith, which was another world for Faramir. He clung to Pippin and trembled a little. Everything was so big! The buildings were so tall he had to crane his neck to see them, and the people seemed to tower over him just as much. And aside from a tree in the main courtyard, there was no nature. No shrubbery, flowers, or rolling green hills. No animals other than horses. Just people everywhere, crowding the streets and staring at them as they passed.

"W-wanna g-go home," he said. Pippin hugged him from behind.

"We'll be fine, lad. Just give it a chance. I know it's overwhelming at first, but it's a very nice place." He leaned closer to Faramir's ear. "And you're about to meet some of the finest folks your da has ever had the pleasure of knowing."

The horses came to a halt in front of a palace the looked like it was straight out of the storybooks Pippin had read to Faramir. A few guards walked out to meet them and he shivered at their spears and swords.

"Welcome back, my lord," they said, and bowed to the adult Faramir. The man returned their greeting and dismounted.

"Where is the king?"

"He awaits you in the great hall. King Elessar and Lady Arwen have prepared a great feast in honor of your arrival."

"Very good. Please see that our horses are stabled and well cared for." The guards nodded and Faramir stood next to the hobbits' horse and held out his arms. "Would you like some help getting down?"

Little Faramir awkwardly lifted his leg over the side of the horse and slid into his namesake's gentle arms. When he was lowered to the ground, Faramir did the same for Pippin, who took his son's hand.

"I hope you're hungry, because the food here is much better than anything your old da can cook," he joked. Faramir didn't answer. He was busy glancing around at the impressive buildings and feeling blinded by how white everything was. He thought the city could use a burst of color and longed for his paints. This castle would be the perfect canvas, if only his arms would reach high enough.

"Welcome, Steward and Sir Peregrin," a voice said, and Faramir jumped a little, having barely realized they were already inside. Pippin nudged him to kneel, and he did so quickly. The man was as tall as any here, and was dressed finely with a crown on his head. Next to him was a smiling lady who had pointed ears and carried a small child in her arms. "It is an honor to see you again."

"The honor is ours," Pippin said, and Faramir thought he'd never heard his father speak so respectfully to anyone. He stood up and Faramir copied him. "This is my son, Faramir Took." He noticed that the other Faramir smiled proudly at the use of the name and blushed as he half hid behind his father's legs.

The king nodded. "It is a pleasure to meet you, little Faramir. I am known as King Elessar, but your father knows me as Aragorn." He had thought about introducing himself as Strider, thinking the name less intimidating, but after hearing of the child's speech difficulties from the Steward and Meriadoc's letters, he thought the "t" sound might make it difficult to pronounce.

Pippin pushed Faramir in the back. "Go on," he urged. Faramir looked down swiftly. "H-hi." A few of the guards chuckled, but a look from Aragorn silenced them. He gestured to the people next to him.

"This is my wife, Lady Arwen, and our daughter Arenna."

"Happy birthday, little one," Pippin said, grinning up at him. Arenna smiled and waved a fist. "Thank you for allowing us to celebrate with her."

"Speaking of which, the feast is just being served," Aragorn said, waving a hand to the grand table a few feet away. "You may sit wherever you like, I have already ordered a few servants to have cushions ready." The table was so high off the ground that the hobbits couldn't eat comfortably without a boost. Pippin hoped they had a few extra for Faramir, who was still barely two feet tall. He sat next to Aragorn, which may have been a little presumptuous on his part, but he had dearly missed his friend. His son was placed in the chair next to him, and the two Faramirs sat together. Lady Éowyn was already sitting in the chair next to her husband's, but before they could begin, she beckoned to him urgently and whispered something in his ear, smiling. The only sentence Pippin could hear was, "It's ready."

Faramir turned to Aragorn. "My lord, if it is all right, Éowyn and I have something we'd like to present to young Faramir before we start eating." Aragorn nodded his consent and Éowyn hurried off to fetch it. She returned in less than minute, bearing a long rectangular case of finely crafted wood.

"What is this?" Pippin asked, eyeing it curiously. She set the case in little Faramir's lap and stood back.

"Go on and open it," she urged.

Faramir did so timidly, but upon seeing the contents his mouth fell open in shock. So did Pippin's. Inside the case was a rainbow of quills, inks, paints, paintbrushes, and a whole stack of smooth paper. The paints were all in different shades, from pastels to earth tones to bright primaries.

"I seem to recall a certain young hobbit saying he wished there were more colors for him to choose from," adult Faramir said. He ruffled the young Took's hair. "Well, it is my hope that with this art set, that will no longer be an issue."

"It's beautiful," Pippin said, feeling tears prick his eyes. "Oh my lord, we couldn't-"

The Steward held up his hand, still smiling gently. "I do not give this to you freely." He placed a hand on little Faramir's cheek and the lad looked up at him with huge eyes. "I will only give this to you if you promise me that you will paint lots and lots of pictures. Beautiful pictures of everything you can think of, and I wish that I may see them when they are finished. Do you think you could do that for me, little one?"

Faramir didn't speak, but nodded and felt tears in his eyes as well. He gently handed the case to his father and threw his arms around the man's neck so that Faramir almost fell backward. He lifted the child up and hugged him back while Pippin tried not to cry.

"This is such a royal gift, how can we ever thank you?"

"You seem to forget, Peregrin, it is I who owes you a debt of thanks." His eyes sobered a little and Pippin knew he was remembering something painful. "Were it not for you, I would not have lived to see your son, and while I am happy to be able to give him this art set, it is not worth nearly the gift you gave me."

"When did you find the time to procure it?" Arwen asked. She too was impressed, and thought she might not mind securing one for Arenna when she was older if she showed an interest.

Éowyn spoke up. "He wrote me the day he arrived in the Shire, telling me of this hobbit-child who loved to paint. He asked if I could have it ready by the time all of you arrived, and by the wonderful skills of a few dwarves, it was finished a few days ago."

Pippin shook his head. "You are too good to us. Thank you a thousand times over."

"It was our pleasure." Faramir set his namesake down and he and Éowyn took their places back at the table. He handed the art set to a nearby guard. "Take this to the hobbit chambers please."

As everybody dug in to their meals and spoke merrily of the goings on in Gondor, Pippin watched his son and swelled with pride at the glow in those little cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes. He had been so afraid of how this trip would turn out, and here they'd made it with better results than he could have imagined. For the first time in a long while, he felt he had made the right decision as a father.


	10. Broken

As the next few days passed swiftly and more people began to arrive, Pippin was grateful that Faramir was now used to the Big Folk, otherwise the poor lad would have had a panic attack at all the people in the castle. Servants were running around frantically, trying to get everything ready. Pippin was enlisted as a guard again to help greet and guide guests into the palace, and he felt a shiver of excitement when he put on his old livery again. Faramir was looked after by Arenna's nursemaid whenever Pippin had a job to do, and often he would be asked to keep the king's daughter company. The poor lass had no siblings and no other children in the palace and was desperate for a playmate. Faramir complied under strict orders from Pippin to be on his best behavior.

The highlight of the week came when Legolas and Gimli arrived, greeting Pippin with open arms and no shortage of tales regarding their adventure, some of which may or may not have been greatly exaggerated on Gimli's part. In turn, Pippin told them all about his family and fetched Faramir from the nursery to meet them.

"Ah, is this the little laddie?" Gimli asked, looking behind Pippin's legs.

"It is," Pippin said, taking Faramir's arm and pulling him out from behind him. "This is my son, Faramir Took. Faramir, these are my dear friends, Gimli son of Gloín, and Legolas son of Thranduil."

Legolas bowed a little with a hand over his heart and Gimli patted Faramir's head. "Ha ha, so this is Pippin's wee lad. Well, I got something for ye." He reached into his pack and brought forth a small wooden horse that was attached to a buggy. "This is fine dwarven craft. Watch!" He put the toy on the floor and carefully turned a little switch in the side, winding it up. As soon as he let go, the horse took off across the palace floor, pulling the buggy with it.

"Amazing!" Pippin exclaimed, watching it go. "Between Bilbo's mithril, Faramir's art set, and now this, the cleverness of dwarves never ceases to astound me."

Gimli laughed and clapped Pippin on the back. "There's plenty more cleverness where that came from, Master hobbit."

"That is debatable," Legolas said, grinning. Gimli snorted good-naturedly but didn't comment. When the horse stopped, he picked it up and handed it to Faramir.

"How do you like it, little hobbit?"

"L-l-l-love it," Faramir said, blushing. He couldn't take his eyes off Gimli's beard, and Pippin realized with amusement that this was the first time he'd ever seen one. All the men they'd interacted with were clean-shaven and of course his son had never met Gandalf. He cradled the horse and buggy in his hands, turning them over and smiling. "S-so sm-sm-smoof."

"Yes, the smoothest wood in Middle-earth," Gimli declared proudly. Legolas muttered under his breath about how many trees had been killed for that wood and Gimli barked at him to shut up.

Before Pippin could remind him, Faramir tried to say, "Th-f-f-" but quickly set the toy down and reached in his pocket for his quill and paper. Pippin frowned, but at least he hadn't needed to be told this time.

Faramir quickly wrote _Thank you_ on the paper and handed it to Gimli, who took it. He looked a little puzzled, but thankfully didn't comment on the method of communication. "You're most welcome."

He turned to Pippin. "C-c-can I go p-play with it?"

"Sure, just mind the guards and palace staff. And share it with Arenna!" he called, but Faramir had already taken off.

The next hour was a merry one, with the three of them catching up on the Scouring of the Shire, Legolas and Gimli's trips to Fangorn and the mountain, Frodo's departure to the Grey Havens, and much more Pippin wouldn't remember afterward. At last he thought he ought to be getting back to work, but then one of Legolas's stories was interrupted by a noise that made them jump.

A scream came from the nursery, followed by a high-pitched wail. Instantly they were on their feet and heading up the stairs, with Gimli holding his ax just in case. Aragorn and Arwen came running from the other direction, meeting them just before they arrived to see Faramir sitting on the floor, hunched over and sobbing loudly. Despite his short legs, Pippin reached him before anyone else, fear gripping his chest. Faramir was rarely so vocal; when he cried it was usually quiet. The only time Pippin could ever remember him acting like this was when he'd dropped him off on the first day of school.

"What's wrong, Faramir? What happened?" He bounced his son in his arms, trying to calm him down. Arwen scooped up Arenna, who was sitting in a corner and staring at Faramir. She seemed to be all right and the room was still in order, so Gimli lowered his ax.

"Are you all right? Tell Daddy what happened," Pippin said gently. Faramir shifted in his arms and Pippin saw it. Clutched in his shaking hands was a headless Bunny. In one palm was the body and the other was the face, which appeared to have been ripped clean off. "Oh no," Pippin murmured. "How did that happen?"

Faramir hiccupped, trying to stop crying, and pointed to the corner where Arenna had been sitting. Now that she was in his mother's arms, everyone could see the horse and buggy, broken into several pieces with the horse separated from the buggy and the windup piece lying a few feet away. Upon seeing it again, Faramir burst into a fresh round of tears and buried his face in Pippin's shoulder.

"Tell me what happened, love," Pippin urged him. He sat down with him and reached for his paper and quill. "Do you need to write it down? Can you write what happened?" Faramir shook his head.

"My lord!" Everybody turned and saw the nursemaid, panting for breath in the doorway. "I am ever so sorry. Once the hobbit-child started crying, I ran to fetch Master Peregrin, but I couldn't find you. I see you've beaten me here." She put a hand over her chest. "If you'll just give me a moment, I can explain."

"Please do," Aragorn said. "And while I understand wanting to fetch Peregrin, I do not appreciate you leaving my daughter unattended."

"My deepest apologies, my lord," she said. She took a deep breath. "Well, for starters, the two of them weren't getting along so well. Lady Arenna kept trying to grab Master Faramir's paintbrushes and paints in his art set and would fuss when Master Faramir wouldn't let her. I pulled Lady Arenna away from it for fear she'd make a mess and told Master Faramir he'd have to put it away, which he did. Since he couldn't paint, he started playing with that little toy." She pointed to the horse and buggy, which Gimli had picked up and was inspecting.

"I tried to distract Lady Arenna with a storybook, but she wouldn't hear of it. She kept squirming out of my lap wanting to play with the toy. I asked Master Faramir if he would share it and he consented to that. Unfortunately, it seems Lady Arenna turned the windup a bit too hard and it broke off. When the horse wouldn't move anymore, she got angry and, well…" She trailed off, looking guilty for criticizing the king's daughter.

"Go on," Aragorn encouraged.

She nodded. "Master Faramir was upset, but he was also very understanding, considering the young Lady's age and all. So then he started playing with his little rabbit, but it wasn't long before Lady Arenna wanted that too, and that one Master Faramir wasn't willing to give up. Both of them were pulling on it at the same time and it just snapped clean off. That's when the little lad screamed."

"It's a very special toy," Pippin explained. "His mother made it for him right before she died. It's all he has of her." He turned to Aragorn. "I'm sorry. Normally he's very good about sharing his toys, but Bunny is…well, it's special to him."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing," Aragorn said. "My child has wronged yours, but I promise to set it right." He gently took what remained of Bunny and handed it to Arwen.

She reached out a hand to stroke Faramir's cheek. "Do not worry. My seamstresses can fix your bunny and have it as good as new in mere minutes."

"B-buggy," Faramir whimpered.

"Oh, it's not as bad a break as all that," Gimli assured him, examining the toy carefully. "With the right tools, I can have it all fixed up in a day or so. Dwarf's honor." He tousled Faramir's hair.

Aragorn turned to Arwen. "Take Faramir's rabbit to the seamstresses. I'll take care of our daughter." He held out his arms. Arwen looked a little suspicious, but handed her over and left. Aragorn took her to another room and those who remained in the nursery winced as they heard a loud _smack_ and then Arenna crying. She toddled back toward the nurse with her dress hiked up a bit. Pippin grimaced at the sight of a red bottom. The nurse quickly scooped her up, shushed her, and left. Legolas and Gimli followed, saying they hoped Faramir would feel better and that Gimli would have the horse and buggy all patched up soon. Aragorn rejoined them.

"My lord, you need not have done that on our account," Pippin said uneasily.

Aragorn held up a hand. "She needs to learn not to demand what does not belong to her and to be more careful with other people's belonging. At her age a scolding would have been ineffective." He put a hand on Pippin's shoulder and met Faramir's eyes. "I am truly sorry, my friends."


	11. Speak

Aragorn remained sorry for quite a while, especially when he walked past the hobbit chambers that night and overheard Pippin and Faramir talking.

"D-daddy, I wanna g-go home," Faramir said.

"We will," Pippin said. "But we have to at least wait until after Arenna's birthday celebration."

"P-please?" Faramir begged.

Pippin sighed. "Just give it a little longer, love."

Aragorn had been relieved when Arwen had informed him that the seamstresses had finished and he had been able to present Bunny to its owner. To look at the toy, you would never know it had been damaged; the stitches were tight and so small they were nearly invisible. "Look who's all better," Aragorn said, trying to sound cheerful. Faramir simply took it and handed him a scrap of paper that read _Thank you_. As Aragorn had left him, he'd seen the little lad hugging Bunny out of the corner of his eye and felt an ache in his chest for the trauma his son had caused. He knew what it was like for a child not to have anything left of its mother.

Luckily he thought of another way to make it up to Faramir and planned to speak to him about it at dinner. It would have to wait though, because Arwen was insisting he help feed Arenna at the table. Personally he thought there was nothing wrong with the lass being fed by the nursemaid until she was old enough to eat on her own, but his wife wouldn't hear of it.

"My daughter will not eat in the servants' quarters as if she were below us," Arwen said. "She has as much right to be here as anyone."

"I am not denying that, but it does make conversation difficult," Aragorn muttered. He was trying to shove a spoonful of carrots into Arenna's closed mouth and this required him to turn away from his guests, which he felt guilty about since he hadn't seen any of the fellowship in years.

"Your tasks as a father come first," Arwen said a little snappily. Normally she was a gracious host, but she could get defensive where her child was concerned.

Next to Pippin, Faramir tensed and held his father's arm.

"What's the matter?" Pippin asked.

Faramir looked up at him with wide eyes. "The king and q-queen. T-they're f-f-fighting," he said, trembling a bit.

Aragorn put his hand over Faramir's. "It's all right. Many times the only reason people fight is out of love. It's a sign they care."

Arwen nodded. "Sometimes the person you fight with the most is the one you end up with. I never quarreled with anyone like I do the man I love," she said, giving Aragorn a tender glance.

"Your mother and I fought too," Pippin said. He put an arm around Faramir's shoulders. "Before you were born, your mother and I fought over who would get to hold your first. That's how marriages are."

Faramir thought on that, glancing down the table. "S-so then, are L-l-legol-las and G-gimli gonna get m-married?"

Legolas spat out his wine and Gimli choked on the drumstick he was chewing. "Now see here, laddie!" he sputtered with a bright red face. Aragorn gave him a whack on the back and he breathed a little easier. Legolas sheepishly used his napkin to wipe up the spill he'd created on the table.

Gimli pointed at Faramir. "That's not something to joke about, now! An elf marrying a dwarf is- is- well it's completely unacceptable! Especially if they're both lads." Legolas scrunched up his face like the very thought repulsed him.

Faramir started to slump his shoulders, but Aragorn caught his eye and grinned. "You two seem awfully defensive about the idea. Could it be that we've hit upon one of your secrets?"

"How dare you imply such a thing!" Gimli roared, and Aragorn had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Even Legolas smiled a bit.

"You'd make a beautiful couple," Arwen said, and Gimli began spluttering nonsense, sending everyone at the table into fits of laughter, even little Faramir. A few men at the other end began to hum a wedding song and the laughter doubled.

"The question is, which one of you will serve as the bride?" Pippin asked, grinning devilishly.

Even Legolas couldn't resist joining the fun. "I think we both know who is more capable of carrying the other across the threshold, don't we?"

"Watch it, elf!" Gimli roared, and there was a fresh round of laughter as the servants came out and cleared away the plates. A few of the officials left to attend to business and Legolas left for the archery range. Gimli muttered a few curses in the dwarvish language, but eventually followed him. Arwen took Arenna to bed and Aragorn had his chance.

"Faramir, I have an offer for you," he said, smiling. "How would you like to paint the wall of one of my buildings?"

Faramir nearly fell out of his chair, he was so stunned. "R-really?"

Aragorn nodded. "Really. We've picked out a nice place and some special paints especially for you." He winked at Pippin, and the hobbit knew that meant he'd probably had some servants test the paint on said walls to make sure it washed off. "Would you like that?"

Faramir nodded eagerly and cracked the biggest smile anyone had seen since before the incident with Arenna. Pippin turned to Aragorn. "My lord, you needn't go to so much trouble."

Aragorn waved away his concerns. "I wish to make up for my daughter's actions. Given her age, I should have known better than to allow her access to Faramir's toys. Besides," he smiled warmly at Faramir. "Our city could use some artistic talent."

Pippin squirmed a bit. He knew it was nobody's fault, per se, but he hated causing such a disturbance when the king was so busy. He looked over at his son and felt a twinge of annoyance when he noticed he was silent.

"What do you say, Faramir?" Pippin prompted. Faramir started to reach for his scrap of parchment and quill, but Pippin snatched them away. "No. You don't need to write this down. You're going to say it."

"Daddy!" Faramir whined and tried to grab the writing tools back, but Pippin held them out of his reach. Aragorn frowned uneasily.

"Faramir Took, turn to the king right now and say thank you."

Aragorn held up a hand. He wanted to tell Pippin that wasn't necessary- Faramir's smile had been more than enough- but Pippin gave a slight shake of his head. His eyes said, _Please. He needs to do this._ And Aragorn had to admit, he was probably right. Still it was hard to watch Faramir getting teary-eyed like he was. He turned to his father and mouthed the word _please_.

Pippin shook his head. "No. I will not be swayed by tears any longer. You are to turn around, look the king in the eye, and say thank you. Loud enough for us both to hear it."

Faramir squeezed out a few more tears and shook his head hard. Aragorn had never seen anyone look so helpless and he desperately wanted to tell Pippin to forget it. He would have thought twice about giving the little lad a gift had he known this would be the outcome.

"Faramir, you are not leaving this table until you say it." Faramir looked up at his father with a look that suggested he had committed the worst act of betrayal possible. Aragorn tried not to look at him, wondering if Pippin's command meant he was stuck at the table too. Perhaps if he left, Pippin would make Faramir thank the empty chair. Or worse, follow him around. _I wonder what Pippin would do if one of the guards assigned him a job right now_ , he thought with a twitch of amusement.

Faramir sobbed, giving his father another desperate gaze. Pippin sat back and folded his arms, his usual smile gone. "I can wait here all night," he said. "But if you wish to stay on my good side, I reckon you'd best do it now."

The child would give in once he saw that weeping and pitiful looks wouldn't work, Aragorn knew. He didn't have his father's stubbornness, or the stubbornness of most hobbits, come to think of it. Aragorn gave him a gentle smile, hoping it might relax him. Maybe if he could just get past the "th" sound, he would be okay.

Faramir opened his mouth and closed it a few times. His eyes were huge. "T-th-th," he tried. He locked eyes with Aragorn for a moment and lost his nerve so that he had to look down again. The poor lad was trying so hard. "F-f-f-fank y-y-y-yew."

"You are most welcome," Aragorn said as gently as he could. Faramir brushed away another tear and hopped down from his chair. Aragorn winced as he hit the ground hard- he needed multiple cushions in order to reach the table and was pretty high up- and ran out of the dining hall toward his namesake, who was passing through at that moment and, upon seeing the tears, scooped him up and murmured soothing words Aragorn couldn't hear.

Pippin scowled. "He's still pronouncing the 'th' sound with an f." He shoved the writing tools away. "It was a mistake to let him use these in the first place. I only meant to help him in a tight spot, but he's begun to use them as a crutch."

"Are you sure he wasn't merely a little intimidated?" Aragorn asked, hoping it wouldn't sound like he was boasting. "Grown men have been nervous when coming before a king."

Pippin sighed and the scowl left his face. "No. Anytime he sees anyone these days, his first instinct is to reach for that quill. He even tries to use it with me." He rested his chin in his palm and Aragorn thought he could have been fifteen years older than he was. "I've tried everything I can think of. We practice talking and enunciation every day; I've taken him to every healer in the Shire to make sure there was nothing the matter with his throat or voice. Everyone tells me it will get better with time. But it only seems to be getting worse."

Aragorn reached across the table and put his hand over Pippin's. "You needn't worry too much, my friend. Those who love him do not care how he speaks."

"Now. While he's young and adorable. But what about when he's older?" His eyes clouded with worry. "What will people think of a grown hobbit who stumbles over his words? He already faces plenty of ridicule as it is." He squeezed Aragorn's hand. "At this point, the only tactic left that I can think of is to strengthen my resolve and be hard with him. Force him to speak. I hate it, but I hope that I won't need to do it for long."

"I will help you any way I can," Aragorn said. "And I know grown Faramir would say the same."

Pippin smiled weakly. "For all our differences, there is one thing my son and I have in common. If you were to tell him a story, he could not help but ask questions."

Aragorn smiled back. Hobbits, even those who were Tooks, were a modest people, so it was doubtful that little Faramir had heard the tales of his father's heroic deeds. Aragorn would have just the story to tell.


	12. Not Stupid

Pippin wandered outside for a bit of fresh air. When he was in Gondor, his favorite place to be was the white tree. It was the only bit of nature the city seemed to have, and it reminded him of home. He was dragging his feet a bit, feeling like there was a weight on his shoulders. He always felt that way after making Faramir cry.

Apart from the guards standing around the tree, Pippin was alone, for which he was grateful. He sat down on a bench nearby and gazed at the horizon. Although the height made him nervous, the view was spectacular. Some time later, he noticed the guards were having a conversation, and eager to take his mind off his troubles, he started listening.

"I'm amazed the king and steward were not offended," one of them said.

"Exactly," said the other one. "I understand wanting to give a child an honorable name, but once they realized what the child was like, they could have at least had the decency to employ a nickname."

Pippin wondered who they were talking about. So far as he knew, there weren't many children in Minas Tirith, at least in the royal sector, apart from Arenna. The first guard spoke up again.

"Our steward is a great man. I pity him, having his name disgraced like that."

Pippin's ears pricked. He stood up and slowly walked toward the guards. They didn't notice him.

The second guard shook his head, but smiled. "Y-y-yes, your M-m-majesty," he said, laughing. His partner joined in. Pippin stopped in his tracks. His blood began to boil.

"The nerve of that little halfling," the guard said in disgust. "Giving our great steward's name to such a stupid child."

 _"He's not stupid!"_ Pippin screamed, and before he knew what he was doing, he had drawn his sword and was charging at the guards, who saw him coming and drew their swords. Pippin swung wildly, but they blocked him at every turn. "He's not stupid!"

"Well isn't this cute," they sneered. "Father halfling here to defend his runt."

"Shut up!" Pippin yelled. He could feel his face reddening as all the blood rushed toward it. "Don't you dare speak of my son that way."

His threats did no good. They were bigger and better fighters than he was, and soon one of them managed to sneak behind Pippin while he was busy fighting the other one, and picked him up so quickly that he dropped his sword. Pippin kicked and shouted for them to put him down, but they just laughed.

"What do you say we toss him over the wall?"

"A fine idea! Let's see how tough he is when-"

"That is enough!" At the sound of that voice the guards stopped in their tracks and turned around. Faramir stood there with his own sword in his hand. The guards dropped Pippin to the ground so they could assume the position of respect.

Faramir fixed them with an unflinching glare. "Lower your weapons." They did so. "Do not bother to raise them again. You are both dismissed."

"But my lord-" they stammered. He held up a hand to silence them. "Faramir Took is only five years old, and yet he has already proven to be a far more noble person than either of you two could hope to be. As for his father, Peregrin Took is a dear friend of mine, one whom I owe my life. Anyone who threatens him therefore threatens me, and while he may have attacked you first, it was not unprovoked. You are permanently relieved of your positions."

The guards trudged out of the courtyard, heads bowed in shame. Faramir didn't give them a second look. He approached Pippin and held out his arms. Pippin burst into tears and ran into them, and Faramir held him close and sat with him on the bench.

"I am exceedingly sorry, Peregrin. Rest assured that anyone who speaks ill of you or your son will never be welcome here." He rubbed Pippin's back. "And for the record, I am honored to share my name with him."

Pippin hiccupped, trying to bring himself under control. "This is exactly what I feared." He swallowed. "I've tried so hard to be a good father to him, but I'm afraid I don't know how." He thought of what folks in the Shire said, that he was too young, too irresponsible, too immature. Maybe they had been right. "I knew people would ridicule him for being different, and I don't know how to make them stop."

"There is no shame in being different," Faramir said. "The behavior of others is not your responsibility to fix. Believe me when I say I speak from experience."

Pippin looked up in confusion. "You?"

"Yes." Faramir nodded. "I too was drawn more to music and art and lore than fighting, something most people did not understand. Perhaps that is one of the reasons why I love your son so much. I see myself in him."

Pippin studied this man, who was well loved and respected and did not seem to be lacking in confidence in the slightest. He couldn't imagine Faramir behaving like his son. "My lord, you were raised among royalty with two great parents."

"One," Faramir said, and Pippin thought he heard a hint of melancholy in his voice. "My mother died when I was a small child. I was raised only by my father, just like your son." He raised an eyebrow. "And correct me if I'm wrong, Master Peregrin, but I was under the impression that Thain was the highest position in the Shire, the closest thing to royalty among hobbits."

Pippin considered that. Faramir had a point, but still he was feeling argumentative. "You had a wonderful brother," he said.

"Yes, but he was rarely around. My father invested everything in Boromir. He spent nearly all of his days in training. I'm sure I don't have to tell you the pressure of being a father's heir. I have no doubt your son will feel it too."

Pippin ran his hand through his hair. "Is this an indirect way of saying that it is cruel of me to try and prepare my son for his responsibility? That I am a poor father for forcing him to speak correctly?"

Faramir closed his eyes and he wore such an expression that Pippin grew cold with fear. This was the closest he'd ever come to seeing the man lose his patience or his temper. When he spoke, his voice was perfectly calm, yet still more frightening than any shout he'd ever heard.

"Forgive me for saying so, Peregrin, but with all respect, I am not convinced that you know what it is to have a father who is cruel and unloving."

Pippin had never in his life felt so ashamed of himself. He wrapped his arms around his friend and stammered apologies, to which Faramir replied that it was all right, he was forgiven.

"I only wish you could see what a wonderful father you truly are," Faramir said, rubbing Pippin's back. "It is clear to everyone that you love your son more than life itself and certainly more than you love yourself. In the end that is all that really matters." He nudged Pippin's shoulder and the hobbit looked up. Faramir pointed to the other end of the courtyard. "Look."

Faramir Took was standing among a flock of birds, now perfectly calm. He had something in his hands, and soon they saw that it was breadcrumbs. Faramir tossed them about, giggling as the birds eagerly gobbled them up.

"You must be hungry," he said. "Well that's all right, I won't let you be hungry. The cooks gave me this bread, but I can't eat it knowing there are birds out here who don't have any lunch."

Pippin's mouth was practically on the ground, but Faramir just smiled. "You see?" he said, quietly so the little Took wouldn't hear them. "See what a caring heart he has?"

"I don't believe it," Pippin whispered. "He didn't even stutter once."

"Animals are a far less judgmental audience than people," Faramir said. "And if you'll permit me to say so, I believe you've allowed the influence of those foolish guards to cloud your judgment. Your son made the journey here, did he not?"

Pippin nodded, too paralyzed with shock to speak.

"A year ago you could have scarcely imaged that possibility," Faramir continued. "Yet here he is. While it's true that he may never be strong socially, your son has a kind nature and is a very gifted artist. Two skills that will serve him much better than being able to gossip and converse with others."

Pippin watched his son give more food to the birds, being careful not to tread too close. When he ran out of food, he sat still, and eventually the birds seemed to trust him enough to move toward him and allow him to touch them. _He's always been afraid of animals,_ Pippin thought. Or had he? Most of what Faramir feared possessed a stinger or was big enough to trample him into the ground. Birds were different.

Faramir smiled and put his arm around Pippin's shoulders. "Do not fret, Peregrin. Your son will make a fine hobbit yet."


	13. A New Journey

Pippin never forgot Faramir's words, and from then on whenever he began to doubt his son's abilities, he needed only to call them to mind and he would feel better. They continued speech practice for another two years, and with painstaking effort, they saw results. Occasionally his stutter would return when he was upset or nervous, but around those he was close to, it occurred less and less. And finally, on his tenth birthday, Pippin managed to coax him into wearing one of Diamond's necklaces under his shirt instead of carrying Bunny.

But none of Faramir's skills progressed more than his art. His namesake had shown his paintings to everyone who was willing to look, and word had traveled far of a young hobbit-child who possessed more talent with a brush than most grown men. As Faramir grew, his paintings became even more detailed and complex as he trained his hand better; the gift of the art set had given him a burst of inspiration. Always remaining, of course, was the mix of shapes and crazy colors. The steward received a package of them every year, and soon a few orders came in from both Gondor and Rohan, asking for pictures of this or that. Not many, but enough that Faramir was able to make a small living. A few hobbits bought some too, though both father and son suspected that this was more out of charity. Hobbits rarely saw much value in pictures since you couldn't eat them.

All of this was wonderful, of course, but still Pippin worried. And he worried more and more as Faramir grew into his tweens. "I used to always fret that my son would not be suitable to be Thain," he said to himself, remembering the words of his father, who had passed away years ago. "And now I fear that he may be too much so."

Faramir had proven to be much better suited to home schooling, and with the help of a tutor Pippin had hired on Merry's recommendation, he completed his schooling and began apprenticing under Pippin. He learned to read and write official documents, interpret the laws, and the hardest of all, resolve disputes. Pippin had often complained about how much of the job required sitting at a desk, but- and this was what troubled him- Faramir didn't seem to mind at all. Day after day he sat at a desk or table, reading or painting or helping Pippin with paperwork.

"Son," Pippin said as they sat by the fire after dinner one night. "I'm beginning to fear you've grown too comfortable."

Faramir looked up from his sketchbook. "Too comfortable with what?"

Pippin leaned back with his pipe. "The Shire. Your job. This house."

Faramir set the book aside. "Is this your way of telling me that you wish I would find my own place to live?"

"Not at all," Pippin assured him. "My home is yours, and always will be. But I beg you not to waste your youth."

"Waste it?" he asked, puzzled. "You know better than anyone how hard I work. I've even managed to acquire an income, something no other hobbits my age have done."

"And I could not be prouder of you for it," Pippin said. "But I dislike the fact that it keeps you indoors all day. When you become Thain, you will have so many responsibilities weighing you down that it will be impossible for you to go anywhere. You must get out and see the world while you can."

Faramir's mouth fell open. "See the world? As in, leave the Shire? My home?"

"Exactly." Pippin smiled. "There's a whole world out there, a beautiful one that you know nothing about. I'm willing to bet you don't even remember Gondor."

Faramir frowned as he tried to concentrate. "Vaguely," he said. "Mostly I remember a lot of white. That and seeing very long legs in every direction."

Pippin laughed. "There is far more to it than that. Far more to the world." Faramir hunched his shoulders and Pippin played his trump card. "Just think of all the wonderful mountains and forests and rivers you could paint, creatures you've never seen. You could have the chance to capture something no hobbit has ever seen, and you can bet they'll have a much heartier interest in your paintings then."

That did the trick. Faramir's eyes immediately widened in interest. He put a finger to his chin, which Pippin knew meant he was thinking. "But Father," he finally said. "What if something happens to me? What if I leave and never come back?"

Pippin leaned forward to look him dead in the eye. "I will not lie to you and say there is no chance of that happening. But I will say this: if you never leave, and never risk not coming back, you will never truly live." He put his hand on Faramir's shoulder. "I did not want to leave the Shire either, but having looked back, I can attest that my journey made me a far better person than if I had spent the rest of my days in a hobbit-hole. And my journey was far more perilous than yours."

Faramir sighed but smiled. "I will not promise you anything, other than that I will give this much thought."

* * *

The farewell feast at Bag End was the most bittersweet occasion Pippin had ever attended. He knew he ought to be a gracious guest and socialize more with the Gamgees, but he couldn't bring himself to leave his son's presence. He still wanted Faramir to get out, live life, and explore as much as possible before he had to come back and be saddled with Thaindom for the rest of his life, but the thought of spending a whole year without him- or even worse, never seeing him again- was almost more than he could bear.

"I have no doubt you'll be just fine, Mister Faramir," Sam said when they sat down to dinner, catching Pippin's look. "You come from fine stock, that's true enough."

"I bet you'll come back with loads of pretty pictures," Rosie said, passing around the butter. It took a long time for any seasoning to get around because there were so many people at the table, most of them Sam and Rosie's children. Pippin squeezed Faramir's hand.

"I'm proud of you," he whispered. Faramir squeezed back.

"You're so lucky," Goldilocks sighed. "I've always wanted to go on a journey and see what's out there in the great big world."

Sam shook his head. "You're a mite young for that, sweetheart. 'Sides, it's one thing for a lad-" He stopped short when he noticed every female head in the room turned to glare at him. Sam's face went from pale to pink in seconds. "Well, what I mean is, it's real dangerous out there, and Mister Faramir is a Took, whereas we're all working hobbits, and-"

"Really?" Pippin raised an eyebrow. "I seem to remember one working hobbit who proved invaluable to us when we made our journey."

Now Sam's color went from pink to scarlet. "Mister Pippin, you're exaggerating. I was jus' there to help Mister Frodo." His eyes took on that sad glimmer they always did when Frodo's name was mentioned.

A thought occurred to Pippin and he quickly changed the subject. When dinner was over and everyone else was chattering by the fire, he approached Sam in private.

"I know how much you love your children," he said. "And I know the thought of losing someone else that you love is painful. But would it really be so bad if Goldilocks were to accompany Faramir? Only if she wants to, of course."

Sam blinked back tears. "Oh Mister Pippin, I don't know, sir. Every time one of the children leaves, it's always so hard." Pippin nodded, remembering how Sam had broken down the day Elanor- his firstborn- had left to move into her new home. "And I thought I'd still have my Goldilocks for a few years yet."

Pippin put his arm around him. "Believe me, I understand better than anyone the pain of letting your children leave you. But if you refuse to allow her any freedom, she'll come to resent you for it."

Sam wiped his eyes. "I know, sir. But still, the idea of her being all alone…"

"She won't be alone," Pippin reminded him. "My son will look out for her. And I think it would be very good for him to have someone along with him. They could keep each other from growing lonely."

Sam nodded. "I'll talk it over with Rosie tonight, and propose it to Goldilocks in the morning." He sniffed and hugged Pippin. "I reckon it's the hardest thing a da will ever do."

* * *

The next week, Goldilocks followed Faramir down the hill and across the roads and rivers, all the way to the borders of the Shire and beyond.

There was a ring on her finger when she came back.


	14. The Last Journey

The wedding was the happiest occasion in the Shire since Bilbo and Frodo's birthday party. Tooks, Gamgees, and Brandybucks alike (as well as a few other unrelated families) spent hours dancing, eating, singing, merrymaking, and toasting the bride and groom. But mostly eating.

Pippin, Sam, Rosie, Merry, and Estel were all together at the same table under the pavilion. Their children- who couldn't rightly be considered children anymore but would probably always be thought of as such- were off dancing with each other. Except for Faramir; he and his wife and namesake (the only Big Person at the wedding) stood off to the side, talking quietly. Faramir still wasn't comfortable in the limelight, and if it hadn't been for Goldilocks's and the families' insistence, he probably would have had a wedding made up of only two guests.

"A real shame Mister Gandalf couldn't be here to give us some fireworks," Sam said while munching on cake. There were still fireworks of course, but nothing a hobbit made could ever compete with the work of a great wizard.

For once Pippin was quiet. Quiet and sober, which for him was unusual where a party was concerned. But he wanted to take in every detail of the day so he could remember it. The flowers, the people, the music, the bright sunlight. He danced occasionally, though it made his heart heavy when he saw all the couples together and Goldilocks with her mother. _Diamond would have loved this,_ he thought with a sniff. _She would have been over the moon with joy._

Pippin could hardly believe it himself, which was what he said to Merry when his cousin asked if anything was wrong. "I'm not sure I ever believed it would really happen," he said. "Though I hope Faramir never knows it. There were many a time when I thought my son getting married was too much to hope for."

Merry put his arm around his cousin. Unlike Pippin, he had no reservations about getting tipsy. "Course he would. Ne'er doubted him for a second."

Estel rolled her eyes and tugged on her husband's ear, but Pippin just smiled. "How are you feeling, Sam?" he asked. The poor hobbit had burst into tears as he'd walked his daughter down the aisle, and after the ceremony was over, he'd pulled both the bride and groom into an enormous hug that was so tight Pippin had wondered if he'd ever let go.

Sam nodded soberly. "I'm feeling all right, Mister Pippin. Was a bit sad earlier- I love my little lass more than anything- but now I'm happy. She's with a good hobbit."

"I suppose you had better stop calling us Mister, seeing as we're now related," Pippin said.

Sam shook his head. "Old habits die hard, sir." Pippin gave him a look and Sam shrugged sheepishly. "See what I mean?"

Merry patted him on the back. "We already considered the Gamgees family; it was only a matter of time before it became official."

Everyone drank to that and soon another fast song began and they got up to dance, absorbing the joy in the air. There was only one factor that dampened Pippin's excitement. He could feel it when he sat down and when he stood up. He could feel it when he walked and when he tried to grasp silverware with his fingers.

He was old. Older than he had hoped to be when Faramir got married. To be sure, he was still able-bodied and certainly hadn't aged as much as Sam and Merry, poor lads, but his hair didn't have much brown left and his face had become lined in the past few years. At the moment, he could still walk without help, but he knew that in a few years, he would likely lose that ability.

Pippin knew he must make his last journey before it was too late.

* * *

Faramir was heartbroken. "Why?" he asked over and over again. "There is no need for you to go to Gondor. Your family has greater need of you than anyone there."

His words were wasted. Pippin's bags were packed, his horse was saddled, and his mind was made up. "I do not wish to die in the Shire, Faramir. It's been too many years since I have seen the mountains and magnificent towers of Gondor and my friends in Rohan, and if I wait much longer I will not have the strength to make the journey."

"But I need you!"

Pippin smiled and enveloped Faramir in a hug. "But you don't, my son. You don't need me. You've become a far greater hobbit than I ever was, surpassing everyone's expectations of you."

"Including yours?" Faramir asked.

Pippin thought about that. "I will say that although I did not expect you to do as well as you have, I am still not surprised." He smiled. "You are a Took. Willfulness is in your blood, after all."

Faramir gave a watery smile at that but still held on tightly to his father. "I shall miss you so much," he sobbed.

Pippin stroked his hair, pushing back the ache forming in his chest. "I will miss you too." He held Faramir tightly. "I confess I didn't know what I was doing with you half the time, but I did the best I could."

"You did wonderfully, Father." Though Faramir tried not to, he still found tears spilling down his cheeks.

Pippin sighed and kissed his son's cheek, trying unsuccessfully to hide his own tears. "All these years and still you cry when I leave you," he chuckled. "But that's all right."

Faramir sniffed. "When my son is old enough, we will come for a visit." Pippin nodded and said he hoped so, but as he mounted his horse and took up the reins, he knew in his heart that they would not see each other again.

His time as a father had ended, and his son's was just beginning.


End file.
